


Same Mistakes

by RightNow2808



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Infidelity, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-03-31 10:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 47,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13973253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RightNow2808/pseuds/RightNow2808
Summary: Somehow it's not as simple as they imagined it would be.The tale of the life after tennis, of lies, injuries, hate and love. The tale of two human beings trying to find their way.





	1. Circles, We're Going in Circles

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii.x  
> So the original plan was to post all of this together but it seems this will be a lot longer than I originally thought and I decided to post it chapter by chapter. There'll be weekly updates hopefully.  
> I'll be happy of any comment or kudos :)  
> If you have any questions, feel free to ask :)  
> Thank you and happy reading.

Roger woke up to sounds of quiet sniffles. He opened his eyes. It was still dark outside, but the moonlight was shining right through the window and was giving enough light that Roger could tell what was wrong.

Rafa was turned away from him, body shaking with quiet sobs. Roger bit into his lip, suppressing a groan. This was the fourth night in a row this has happened. There were so many reasons he wanted to pretend to be asleep and just ignore this, but his heart would never let him. He rolled around, spooning Rafa from behind, throwing an arm around his waist and gently pulling him close. Rafa stiffened at first, but relaxed after a few seconds, sobs growing louder.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. Roger sighed, pressing his nose into the back of Rafa’s neck.

“It’s okay, baby, what hurts? Tell me.”

“Knees. Is so frustrating, Roger, I can’t sleep.” Roger squeezed his eyes shut, Rafa’s words hurting worse than a bullet.

“How strong, on a scale? From one to ten?”

“I not know. Four… Five maybe.”

Roger knew it was worse and it hurt him so much that Rafa was saving the bigger numbers for even worse of pains. He sighed again, it was hard not to.

“Stay here. I’ll get you some pain killers and the cooling gel, okay?”

Rafa’s hand grabbed his where he still had it resting on Rafa’s tummy. He squeezed Roger’s fingers and Roger returned the squeeze, before climbing out of the bed. The alarm clock on the nightstand said half past two, had Rafa got any sleep at all?

He walked to the bathroom, turned on the light and took a new tube of cooling gel and a few pain killers from the cabinet. Still blinking against the sudden light, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked so old. So old and tired and stressed. All because of Rafa. He left the light on and neared the bed again. The Spaniard was still crying but he seemed to be calming down.

“Turn around, come on,” Roger said softly, “sit up.” Rafa obeyed slowly, a grimace of pain on his face. If turning around was causing him pain, it was even worse than usual. Roger leaned over and turned the lamp on, grabbing a tissue from the box on the nightstand and passing it to Rafa, who took it and wiped off his tears. He helped him place a pillow between his back and the bed post, before drawing back the duvet and sitting down cross-legged beside Rafa’s legs.

His knees were swollen, almost blue in colour and Roger was scared. They haven’t done much the previous day, but it was clearly too much for Rafa. He passed him the pills and Rafa drank them down with water from the water bottle. His lips curled up gratefully, but he didn’t quite smile. Roger opened the tube of cooling gel and squeezed some to both of Rafa’s knee. His legs twitched at the cold, but he didn’t react otherwise.

“Why didn’t you say you were hurting?” he asked, gently spreading the gel around. When the skin was coated in it completely, he started massaging slowly like Rafael Maymo had taught him all those years ago. He watched Rafa’s face carefully, for any signs of discomfort, but it was completely blank instead. Roger hated it. Rafa wouldn’t answer even as Roger tried to search his gaze. He was looking down at his lap and Roger felt a stab of sadness mixed with annoyance. It was so difficult. It took him a lot to stay gentle and calm. “Rafa?” he asked softly.

“I…” A fresh wave of tears came and in seconds Rafa’s face was wet again. An emotion Roger couldn’t quite place made him dig his thumb in a little harder than intended, Rafa’s leg twitching. “I just… You had fun. I… I don’t want to complain all time, Rogi.”

Roger had to bite into his lip, before he could say something he regretted later. Yes, he might have enjoyed the day, but a good night’s sleep meant more to him than a long walk along the beach. He should have known.

“Look, we talked about this,” he said instead. “I don’t want you to be in pain. Ever. I want you to tell me if something hurts no matter how much fun we’re having. Baby, it’s not fun if you’re hurting.”

Rafa was looking down at his lap guiltily, looking so miserable and disappointed that Roger immediately felt bad for saying anything else than just comforting him. He brought his hands up, covering his face and sobbing and it was so heart-wrenching that Roger himself felt the need to cry. He sighed, reaching for another tissue to wipe off his hands, before he sat down beside Rafa, wrapping his arms around him.

He held him, stroking his soft hair and murmuring into his ear. He just wanted Rafa to stop crying because it was hurting him and go to sleep.

“I am so useless,” Rafa said in between his sobs. “I can’t do anything, Roger, I…”

“Shhh, don’t say that…”

“You know is true!”

“No, it’s not, Rafa, it’s not, come on, let’s lie down, yes?” Without letting go of him Roger manoeuvred them back into a lying position, drawing Rafa close, wrapping both arms around him, holding him as close as possible.

“I am really sorry,” Rafa whispered. “I know you need sleep. If you want, I sleep in another room.”

There was a part in Roger that wanted this. A disgusting, sick part of him that wanted peace and quiet. But Roger’s heart ached at the thought of Rafa having to go through this alone.

“No, sweetheart, of course not. Don’t worry, it’s okay.” And it wasn’t, not really. But the good still outweighed the bed and Roger never wanted to let go of the man in his arms. “We’ll call your doctor tomorrow, okay? If they’re still that swollen.”

“Sí,” Rafa agreed softly, his sobs finally getting smaller and quieter. He grabbed Roger’s hand and, fingers curling around his, thumb coming to rest on the silver wedding band on his ring finger. “Te amo.”

Roger forced himself to smile, unable to answer.


	2. Dizzy's All it Makes Us

The swelling has gone down and Rafa walked normally the next day. When Roger woke up it was well past ten o’clock and Rafa was nowhere to be seen. Roger went downstairs, rubbing at his eyes. His back hurt a bit, he wondered if Rafa would want to give him a massage. Their cat, Tiger (it was a she, but Rafa insisted on the name), was sleeping on the kitchen counter and Roger scrunched up his nose in distaste. He picked her up and put her down on the floor, which she wasn’t too happy about, giving him an annoyed look, before scurrying off to the living room. Roger sighed and turned around, opening the fridge to find something to eat and turning on the coffee machine.

His coffee wasn’t yet ready when he heard the sound of the key in the lock and a second later, Rafa was stepping inside, a grocery bag in his hand and a smile on his face.

“You get enough sleep?” he asked, all sunshine. Roger couldn’t help but smile back. Rafa’s smile was contagious.

“Well, you know, averagely. Thank you for letting me sleep, though. Anyways, I hope you brought something good, I’m starving.”

“I have doughnuts,” Rafa said, beaming. He placed the bag on the counter.

“Oh my God, I love you,” Roger replied, rummaging through the bag to fins his price.

“Sí, I know,” Rafa smiled. “Did you feed Tiger?” he asked.

“No, I thought that was your job,” Roger said with a slight frown. He sensed a start of an argument here, but to his surprise Rafa just smiled.

“Is okay. I gonna do it.” He grabbed the bag of cat food from the cupboard and went to the living room where Tiger had her bed and feeding place. Roger watched him while opening the bag of doughnuts, taking one out and leaving one for Rafa. Rafa leaned down and shook some food into her bowl. Roger saw him wince when he straightened up and he turned away. He couldn’t watch this.

“Any plans for today?” Roger asked while Rafa gave her some fresh water.

“I have to go to academy, some stuff to do, dinner with my mum in the evening. You want to do anything?”

“I can come to the academy with you if you want,” Roger said, shrugging his shoulders. They didn’t mention it but neither what happened at night to repeat, even though they couldn’t exactly control it.

“No doctor?”

“No, they are okay.”

Roger looked down at Rafa’s knees. He had them bandaged but they weren’t swollen anymore.

“Did you take the pills?”

“Sí, no worries.”

Roger suppressed a sigh, how could he not worry, Rafa could barely fucking walk.

“Hey, come here.” He opened his arms, Rafa willingly coming into his hug. “Are you okay? Nothing else hurts?”

“No, I’m okay, Roger,” Rafa said, sounding almost annoyed. Roger sighed, pressing his nose into Rafa’s neck. He smelled of sunshine, sand and clean sea water – of summer. He ran his hand through Rafa’s hair gently, the way he liked and Rafa hummed softly in approval. He kissed him slowly, because everything he did had to be gentle when it came to Rafa.

Rafa deepened the kiss, his fingers curling at the back of Roger’s neck, holding him close. Roger wrapped his arms around Rafa’s waist and brought him even closer, until they were pressed flush against one another. They kissed until they were breathless and just when Roger was about to say they should go to the bedroom, Rafa pushed himself away. A small smile was on his lips.

“I have to put stuff in the cupboards,” he said and turned to the counter, putting away the contents of the grocery bag. Roger gave an annoyed sigh. He was old, but not old enough not to be horny and Rafa and he hadn’t had sex in ages. It’s been more than a month for sure. He’d always have an excuse for not going further.

“I’ll be swimming if you need me,” he said, before drinking his coffee in one go and stuffing the rest of the doughnut in his mouth. He washed his hands quickly and saw Rafa nod in acknowledgement before he went to their bedroom to change.

He knew it wasn’t fair he expected so much from Rafa, but there were moments – a lot of those – when he just couldn’t help but be annoyed at some stuff. This wasn’t the life he had imagined all those years ago. He didn’t think it would be that painful, that frustrating, that difficult and so, so tiring. Rafa was having mood swings which Roger couldn’t really blame him for, his body was killing him.

Sometimes it was his back, sometimes arms, sometimes ankles, but those came rarely, and Roger was grateful for that, but his knees, gods, his knees. They just wouldn’t let them have a normal life. He sighed as he pulled his swimming trunks on and then went out to the swimming pool through the door in the living room. He saw Rafa contemplating what to prepare for lunch in the kitchen.

Roger jumped into the pool and the cold refreshing water felt like it just separated him from all of his problems and worries. He’s been spending way too much time in the pool lately. They both knew it, but neither would comment on it. Rafa loved water, Roger thought as he swam to the other side of the pool. He loved water and he couldn’t swim. Sometimes when it’s exceptionally hot he would come into the water with Roger and stay in one corner or walk around, grinning at Roger even as sadness shone from his eyes. It was horrible.

The part of Roger which was annoyed with Rafa liked that information so much. He swam up and down the length of the pool until his arms and legs ached and he was breathing deeply every time he stopped at one side. He climbed out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around himself and walking back inside. He went into the bedroom to change.

“Roger!” he heard just as he was pulling his T-shirt on.

“What?” he yelled back, searching for a pair of shorts.

“You leave everything wet!”

“It’s just water, Rafa,” he said and walked back downstairs. He found Rafa at the bottom of the stairs, with hands on his hips and a frown on his face.

“Is not just water! It has chlorine in it… Many other stuff too. Is gonna leave white marks!”

“No, it’s not, stop exaggerating.” Rafa glared at him, lines showing in between his brows.

“I am not,” he mumbled, before walking back into the kitchen. Roger rolled his eyes, sitting down on the couch. Rafa wasn’t always so miffed when it came to stuff like that, he used to be pretty untidy, but ever since he’s had to spend so much time at home, he became pedantic and clean and everything had to be just as he wanted. Roger stared at the row of candles under the TV that was hung up on the wall. Not one of them was out of place and if it was, Rafa would fix it immediately. And you see, Roger wasn’t that careful about stuff like that, which annoyed Rafa to death.

And Rafa was so sensitive too. Yes, it might have something to do with all the pain he’s been going through, but Roger was trying really hard not to snap at him, while Rafa did it every time something went wrong. Which was often.

Rafa prepared them pasta with shrimps and Roger wasn’t a person who complained a lot and he liked sea food, but this being the third time this week he couldn’t hide his distaste. Pasta and shrimps basically summed up the food Rafa liked, but Roger’s really been craving meat lately. Rafa noticed the look on his face and he put his fork down, staring at Roger. He knew him well enough that he knew what the expression on his face meant. He’d seen it many times when they visited unknown restaurants.

“If you no like, you can cook yourself,” he said. It wasn’t that easy really, because Rafa reigned in his kitchen and Roger was barely ever able to cook lunch. Rafa let him prepare dinner but only when he was too tired and then usually complained about whatever Roger had decided to cook.

“I didn’t even say anything,” he replied and took another bite to emphasise his point. Rafa frowned suspiciously at him for a second longer, before picking up his fork again.

“Okay, if you say so.”

An hour or two later, after siesta on the deckchairs beside the pool, which they spent quietly – Roger scrolling through his phone and Rafa reading a book – they got into the car and drove to the academy.

Rafa went to the offices’ and Roger, having nothing else to do decided to take a walk along the courts. He set a smile on his face, stopping here and there, correcting the smaller kids’ grips, repositioning the olders’ elbows and wrists. Most of them have already seen him here, he came at least once every two days with Rafa who enjoyed nothing more than spending time with kids.

They played sometimes. Those times were getting rarer and rarer, but sometimes Rafa would ask him if he was up to a set with a big grin and Roger was always up to a set, especially with Rafa. When they did, they played out in the open and a crowd gathered around them, cheering for them both and the excitement and adrenaline made them play for more than just a set, until Rafa would tell him he couldn’t anymore with a tight smile and sorrow in his eyes.


	3. We Know Where it Takes Us

The tennis world was turned upside down three years ago when shocking news dropped out of the blue. Every single newspaper, TV or radio programme or internet site couldn’t talk about anything else but this for a whole week. Roger Federer, who’s been happily married for thirteen years and had four children had got divorced and was now married to Rafael Nadal, who was thought to be in love with the same girl since 2004. It took some time for people to get used to it, but what surprised them both was that there weren’t a lot of haters. That was probably what they were the most afraid of.

Back then they didn’t worry about anything else but coming out, it was after all the most challenging thing on their way. And only after they crossed that bridge other problems started appearing.

Roger clearly remembered the first argument they had as husbands. It was about a week after the honeymoon they spent in Thailand. Roger told him he was going back to Switzerland to visit his kids and it has always been like that. They’ve been together for more than ten years before marrying and Rafa was used to sharing Roger with his wife, with his kids. Something in his mind had changed on their wedding day – he somehow expected Roger would be all his now. That he would give up his kids and ex-wife who was still his friend. Through tears Rafa had explained to him that he wasn’t expecting that, but that he was so tired of wondering what would happened between him and Mirka when he wasn’t there. Roger knew all about his insecurities and he should have assured him back then instead of yelling at him and accusing him of paranoia, but comments like this had always made him so angry.

Roger went to Switzerland and stayed there for two weeks and it was probably the longest time they spent without talking to each other since they had started dating. Rafa was the one who broke down first, calling Roger and begging him to come home. Rafa using the word ‘home’ softened Roger’s heart and he was on the next plane to Mallorca. This was also the first time Rafa apologized for Roger’s mistakes.

Rafa’s knees had been bad for the last two years of his career and after going one year and a half without winning a Masters or Grand Slam title, after having broken down on court several times, crying and sobbing in front of the crowd which he never did before, after having smashed a few of his rackets in frustration because he _just couldn’t_ , he decided to retire. It was the most painful decision of his life, but he couldn’t go on like that. Roger retired one year earlier, at 39, but his retirement wasn’t miserable or forced. He retired because he wanted to dedicate more time to his kids, to other stuff and to Rafa most of all. He announced it out of the blue after winning Wimbledon for the last time and for once he didn’t cry at the ceremony because he was calm and happy and satisfied.

The thing was that they were so used to only seeing each other once or twice every month that when they were suddenly together all the time – after Roger finally moved to Mallorca – they just didn’t know what to do with one another. They argued about the stuff they’ve never argued about before, because they just didn’t have to think about it back then.

Roger felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, noticing Rafa standing behind him. He was sitting on the bench, watching two players play, but he must have zoned out a bit. He scooted more to one side and Rafa sat down beside him, neither of them speaking. Their eyes followed the ball in sync.

“Hey, are you up to a game?” he asked and gods, it was horrible of him to even ask that, it was horrible of him to put Rafa into a situation where he couldn’t do anything but disappoint Roger, but he still did it and he had no idea why. Rafa frowned, the pain showing so obviously on his face that Roger immediately wanted to take it back, but then Rafa was nodding slowly, getting up to his feet, grabbing Roger’s hand.

Roger expected Rafa to say no, it was the only logical, wise thing to do. He didn’t want Rafa in pain, as horrible as it was he just wanted to see Rafa’s reaction to the question and he’d seen it, he’d seen the sorrow, the pain. But now he couldn’t change his mind anymore, Rafa wouldn’t let him. He was still just as stubborn as he used to be.

“I get rackets,” he said, “court 7 is free, I think.” And he scurried off. Roger stared at him, carefully watching his movement. Rafa wasn’t limping, but he definitely would be after that and Roger hid his face behind his hands, rubbing at his eyes. He was a horrible person.

He stood up slowly and walked to the court 7, which was indeed empty. Rafa came a few seconds later, carrying their rackets and a new box of balls, grinning. They warmed up quickly, Rafa telling him about the news from the office. Then they stepped on the court, the net separating them, and they played. They directed the ball at each other the first, Roger especially watching that he didn’t make Rafa run much. A game was finished. And so was the second one. And they played on. A ball flew past Rafa and landed in the corner. Rafa followed it with his eyes and then a challenging smirk appeared on his lips. He went and picked the ball up, tossed it into the air and served. And then they played for real. Eventually one of the players from the next court came and started picking up the balls and passing them now to Rafa now to Roger. Someone started scoring the points.

And they played like they were in another world, nothing but them existing. The time stopped for them and Rafa got the set. They played another, their ball boy being replaced by someone else and the one who kept the score was replaced by one of the coaches who took it upon himself to become the umpire. It was 4-4 when the level of Rafa’s game suddenly dropped considerably. Roger got a break and then easily the next game. He saw before the last point that Rafa couldn’t continue, it was written all over his face. But when they met at the net he still smiled, wide and beautiful and Roger couldn’t resist leaning forward and pecking his lips. A lot of people had gathered, and he didn’t want to offend anyone but showing he loved Rafa was never a problem for him.

Rafa walked off the court normally, but immediately after the cameras were off him, his face turned into a grimace.

“We pushed it again, didn’t we?” Roger asked, taking Rafa’s racket. “Sit down, I’ll put the stuff away.” Rafa gratefully sat down on the bench in the locker room, while Roger stored their rackets away into their lockers. “We’ll shower at home, okay?” he asked.

“I want a bath,” Rafa mumbled, his hands resting on his knees.

“Then we’ll have a bath,” Roger replied. He grabbed Rafa’s wrists and pulled him up. “Come on, let’s go home.” The reaction Rafa made every time Roger referred to their house as home was priceless, his whole face lightning up and smiling. Even now. He wrapped a protective arm around his waist and they walked outside slowly. They were okay.


	4. We've Been Before

Sometimes they didn’t talk about stuff. That was the worst. Neither of them had the strength to start the conversation. Something was wrong and they both knew that, but they just wouldn’t act on it. They gave each other short answers, spent their meals in silence, took their showers separately and in the night, they would turn away from each other and fall asleep with a meter in between them.

It went away. They ignored it and that strange feeling went away. But every time it happened it left a scar on their relationship, on their marriage.

Roger was lying on his back, Rafa beside him. They were both awake, but quiet. And the tension was so thick Roger almost trembled with it. He was glad it was dark. He was sure Rafa was sensing it too and that he probably felt just as uncomfortable.

“Rogi,” Rafa finally spoke, after a few more minutes of silence, listening to the alarm clock ticking. He rolled around and snuggled into Roger’s side, head coming to rest on Roger’s shoulder, wrapping his arm around his middle. Roger looked down at him and even in the dark he could see Rafa’s eyes sparkling. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Roger replied, resting his hand on top of Rafa’s. “Just… quite a tiring day, your sister just never stops talking.”

Rafa smiled. “Sí, I know.”

More silence followed.

“Hey, Rogi?”

“Hm?”

Rafa hesitated, fingers playing with Roger’s forearm, running up and down until he reached his fingers and squeezed them.

“Miguel asked me to come fish with him tomorrow,” he said quietly. Roger released the grip he had on Rafa’s fingers. He could see the expression on Rafa’s face becoming guarded.

“And?” Roger asked, the coldness of his own voice surprising him.

“Um, well, I said I would go.”

“Why are you telling me that?”

At his words Rafa moved away from him and sat up, staring down at him, the expression on his face almost offended. Roger could see it even in the dark.

“You like if you wake up and I am not here?” He was raising his voice which wasn’t very Rafa-like, but Roger supposed his answer had been irrational.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said instead of apologizing and telling Rafa he could go, no problem and then just go to sleep with Rafa in his hold.

“Like when I go get us food? You want to go get food instead?” Rafa was almost yelling at this point and Roger grabbed his wrist, but Rafa wouldn’t let him, pulling his hand away.

“I didn’t mean that,” Roger said, sighing. He meant all the times Rafa had gone down to the beach with Miguel or Feli or Marc or whatever, telling Roger nothing about it.

“What you mean then?” Rafa asked, his voice demanding.

“Nothing. You can go, I don’t care, go to sleep.” Rafa glared at him, eyes searching at Roger’s face, before he huffed and lied back down. He turned away from Roger and scooted as far to his side of the bed as he could. Roger suppressed a groan, thinking about how unnecessary this argument had been. But at times like this he just couldn’t stop the words coming from his mouth. He spoke without the permission of his brain or his heart.

Whenever Rafa mentioned another man’s name his insides churned with jealousy. He hated it. He knew how irrational he would sound telling Rafa that he didn’t want him with another man, so he didn’t say anything. And there was a part of him that tried to show his displeasure in other ways and one of those was hurting Rafa.

He closed his eyes but couldn’t sleep. Guilt started slowly spreading through him until he was almost burning in it, but his pride wouldn’t let him apologize. He could feel Rafa turning around, letting out huffs and sighs every once in a while, tossing and turning until he finally stood up a few minutes later. Roger opened one of his eyes a fraction and watched as Rafa walked to the wardrobe and pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, before quietly walking out of the bedroom.

Roger turned around and looked at the alarm clock. It was half past eleven and he knew neither of them would get much sleep that night.

He sighed, thinking of the times before. What made it so much easier? It was in 2012 that they started dating. You couldn’t really call it that. It just happened. Roger asked Rafa to come to his room one evening, offering him juice because Rafa said with a sheepish smile that he would never drink alcohol during a tournament. Roger agreed, and they spent more than an hour on the couch, talking and drinking juice until their glasses were empty. Roger reached over for Rafa’s glass and placed them both on the coffee table, Rafa following his movement with his eyes. Roger placed his palm to the side of Rafa’s face and the Spaniard’s eyes widened beautifully. Their faces were so close together and Roger could see Rafa staring at his lips, he could see that Rafa wanted this. He leaned forward and kissed him.

And so it started. Locker rooms, bathrooms, dark corners. And eventually Roger started spending more and more time in Rafa’s rooms, until it wasn’t a surprise to anyone anymore and Rafa’s team always made sure there was enough space for Roger too.

They never had much problems with hiding. Mirka found out soon enough, and she… she just knew. The three of them were sitting on the couch in the royal suite, Rafa’s and Roger’s fingers intertwined, Mirka watching them from the other couch. It’s been some time since she felt Roger and her coming apart and she knew that Roger had always been missing something. She just wanted him to be happy and that was that. Myla and Charlene found out some time later. They didn’t understand what was happening, but they liked Rafa and Rafa liked them and there wasn’t a problem until later on.

Rafa’s family was shocked when they found out, but they loved him so dearly and they would never judge him for something like being in love with another man, even if it was Roger. His mother did corner him though and asked him with a scary expression on her face if he was cheating on Maria. And Maria, she always knew that Rafa wasn’t into women, before even Rafa himself did. She could tell the first time Rafa kissed her, when she was only seventeen. He just wasn’t into it, even though he was trying really hard to be. She was the one who helped him come to terms with what was happening in his life, with the fact that he liked men and with the fact that he really, really liked Roger. Rafa owed her his life, really.

They told their teams then and their friends. And the true friends accepted them and were happy for them, whereas the teams were more stubborn, finding and analysing all possible ways how this could go wrong. But even they couldn’t stop this from happening and then their relationship became something like a routine. They would spend time together at tournaments and sometimes during the off-season.

And it was perfection, it was the best thing ever and they couldn’t be happier. Sure, there were hard moments too, when one of them lost, when one of them got injured, when one of them had a bad day, it happened. But they talked about it, they cuddled, and they were okay. And Roger once again asked himself, what has changed, what was wrong now. During those ten years the only thing he wanted was to have Rafa all the time, to have him whenever, to be able to be there for him whenever.

And now he did, and he wasn’t happy. He was tired and stressed and annoyed and so on the edge all the time. He was being rude and mean, although he didn’t want to be, but he couldn’t help it. This had been going on ever since they married but was getting considerably worse in the past year and Roger was going mad with it. Sure, they still had great moments, they did, but it was getting harder and harder to still see them.

Roger turned around, burying his face into Rafa’s pillow, breathing in his smell. I’m sorry, was the last thing he thought about before finally falling asleep.


	5. Closer, Maybe Looking Closer

When he woke up everything around him was quiet, but the sound of the door closing was echoing in his mind. He looked at the alarm clock, rubbing at his eyes and noticing it was only half past six. It was so unusual that he woke up that early, but surprisingly he didn’t even feel the need to sleep more. He got up and got dressed, making the bed so that Rafa wouldn’t make a fuss about it in the evening. Their argument slowly started coming back to him. And gods, it was so stupid.

There were times when Roger couldn’t understand himself, and this was one of those times. He went downstairs. There was a grocery bag on the kitchen counter and a note beside it.

**I got you food. See you for lunch. Already fed Tiger.  -R.xx**

Tiger was sleeping under the table. Roger opened the bag and put the food away into the cupboards and the fridge. Rafa got him a croissant and he smiled. Another stab of guilt reminded him of how he acted yesterday, and he reached for his phone to text Rafa. He just wanted to thank him for the food. He opened his and Rafa’s conversation and typed away quickly.

**Thank you for the croissant. I’m sorry, we’ll talk about it when you get back. I love you.**

His pride wouldn’t let him press the send button, but then his heart did the job and he sent the message. He sighed in relief, but less than a second later he heard the sound of an incoming message. He turned around. Rafa’s phone was on the counter, screen lightning up with Roger’s message. Roger groaned and bit his lip, thinking about deleting it. He then decided to leave it, he’ll tell Rafa he didn’t know he left his phone at home.

But then the slight anger came. Why on Earth would Rafa leave his phone at home, what if something happened and he wouldn’t be able to call Roger? Then another thought came. What if Rafa wanted to spend time with Miguel without Roger bothering him?

He unlocked Rafa’s phone – he knew the code – and deleted the message he had sent a minute ago. There was a strong urge to look at his other conversations, but he didn’t even want to know. He locked the phone, before he could do it.

He made himself some coffee and ate the croissant, before going out to the pool for his usual swimming session. It was still quite cold outside, but it felt good and he swam almost twice as much as usual, his knees for once not giving him any trouble.

With Rafa gone he could cook lunch and he was more than happy to see Rafa had bought meat. He smiled, his mood changing once more. It was so frustrating how often those mood swings of his happened. Because there was this part of him who was annoyed by Rafa, because of his tidiness, his stupid sea food, his broken knees, hanging with other men, not sleeping at night, not being able to play tennis, wanting kids – and Roger knew half of those weren’t Rafa’s fault, but he could help it. Sadly, he wasn’t trying hard enough.

And then Rafa only had to smile and hug him and Roger would forget all about it, because Rafa was just too nice for his own good. Most of the time Roger was sure that Rafa loved him unconditionally (except when he ran off with some other guy) – and there it goes. The thought alone managed to make Roger frown again.

He prepared the chicken the way his mother did. He took the white wine out of the fridge to make the sauce and couldn’t resist taking a sip right from the bottle. They didn’t drink a lot and Roger honestly missed the taste of it. He couldn’t resist taking another. The mere thought of getting drunk made him feel better. So he downed the whole bottle, which wasn’t really hard and cooked on, managing to relax a bit. He couldn’t handle his alcohol well and he felt the first pleasing effects of it a few minutes later.

He giggled to himself. Rafa would be so angry with him. He was just finishing making the salad when he heard the sound of the key in the lock. Rafa came a few seconds later and Roger looked at him. He was smiling, looking a bit sunburnt over the face, a bag strapped over his shoulders, a towel around his neck.

“Hey,” he said, carefully, although his smile didn’t disappear. “Smells great.”

“Hola,” Roger replied. He was mesmerized over and over again by how beautiful Rafa was. He had to start this carefully. “Did you have fun?” he asked.

They acted around each other like walking on egg-shells. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Sí,” Rafa replied, grinning. He set the bag down on the floor. Roger looked at Rafa’s knees. It was a habit of his. The blue bandages stood out against the tanned skin. He came forward and looked at what Roger was cooking over his shoulder. He wrapped his hands around Roger’s waist, pressing his nose into Roger’s neck and sighed contently. A second later he stepped back, and Roger turned around, immediately missing the warmth of Rafa’s body.

“You drink?” Rafa asked with a frown, his eyes narrowing on him. His distaste was clearly showing.

“A bit,” Roger replied, turning back to the stove. He couldn’t look him in the eyes when Rafa got that horrible disappointed expression on his face.

“Why?” Rafa asked, confused. He walked around the kitchen aisle and sat down at the bar stool, putting his hands on the aisle and dropping his chin into his hands. He was staring at Roger, waiting for the answer and he won’t be letting this go.

Roger turned the meat around, procrastinating for as long as he could, before he finally turned around to face Rafa, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because I wanted to,” he replied simply.

“But you never drink!” Rafa exclaimed, sounding completely offended. He slapped his hand down on the top of the aisle. Roger rolled his eyes.

“Rafa, chill. I made a few sips, stop exaggerating,” he replied, turning off the stove and taking the food to the already set table. Rafa followed him but the expression on his face didn’t change. His eyes fell to the kitchen counter where Roger ad forgotten to put the empty bottle away. Rafa’s eyes widened almost comically and he inhaled, ready to give him a lecture. Shit.

“This is not few sips! That bottle was full! A whole litre of wine! Puta, Roger!”

“Stop yelling,” Roger said calmly. As surprising as it was, he didn’t feel a trace of anger. He sat down at the table and put the meat and salad on his plate. Rafa glared at him from across the table, arms crossed over his chest.

“Am not yelling! Why you get drunk alone? Is not like you, Roger!”

“Look, it’s a great bottle and as you’ve said yourself, I don’t drink much, why shouldn’t I enjoy in some good wine? It’s not like I got drunk on vodka.”

Rafa looked down at his plate mournfully.

“That’s how it always starts,” he mumbled quietly. Roger ignored him and put salad on Rafa’s plate.


	6. There's More to Discover

Roger sat on the bench at the academy, watching Rafa lean close to a kid around eight or so, who fell and scraped his knee. There was a bit of blood and a lot of crying. Roger watched as Rafa picked him up easily and carried him inside. It reminded him of his own children, although they were older by now. He looked at the abandoned rackets and balls and sighed.

There was no need for him to follow them inside, Rafa would take care of him, he knew that. He stayed there and looked up to expose his face to the warm sunlight. It was the evening already and it wasn’t hot anymore. The wind was blowing gently. Roger looked around himself. This was perfect. The air was filled with sounds of kids and coaches yelling, of the balls hitting the strings of the racket and as so many times before he found himself missing this. Were they just not destined to function without tennis?

Rafa and the kid came back a few minutes later, Rafa making him laugh. There weren’t any tears anymore and his knee was covered with a plaster. Rafa was so good with kids, it never ceased to amaze Roger. He wondered what would have happened if his kids still liked Rafa.

Looking back to that time, Roger thought he never saw something as sad as Rafa when he got into a fight with his kids. Well, if you could call it a fight. By the time they married, Myla and Charlene were old enough to know exactly what was going on and as normal girls at the age of thirteen they rebelled against their father’s new partner. All four of them absolutely loved Rafa until they told them they were getting married. Roger understood, they were hurt and sad, but that wasn’t an excuse to act the way they did.

He didn’t raise them like that. A day after they told them, after they all ran to their room and didn’t come out for the rest of the day, Rafa went to check on them reluctantly. Thinking back to it, it would be better he hadn’t gone. Roger stayed downstairs, wondering if Rafa could manage the situation on his own, he did have an amazing connection with them after all, but when he heard their daughters yelling he was so shocked he couldn’t even move. Their harsh words surprised even him.

Rafa came downstairs a few minutes later, completely silent, his face blank with tears slipping down his cheeks. Roger couldn’t do anything but hug him close and tell him they would get over it, it wouldn’t do any good if he tried to make them apologize.

They didn’t get over it, not really. Roger made them apologize about three months later and they apologized while glaring at him. It caused Rafa so much pain that Roger decided he just won’t try to get them to get along anymore. It was pointless. His daughters were as stubborn as him if not more and there was that. Now, three years later they said hello to Rafa when they saw him, but that was all.

The boys were different. They couldn’t hold as many emotions and they didn’t completely hate Rafa the way the girls did, but they were reserved whenever they met, barely speaking up. Their parents’ divorce left a scar on all of them.

Rafa didn’t wish for kids back when he had such a great relationship with Roger’s, but now it was different. Roger knew how much Rafa wanted a kid, but he had four of his own and he couldn’t imagine having another. It would destroy him completely.

He watched Rafa laughing with the ten-year-old, his face lit up and eyes twinkling. He corrected his grip gently, showing him the forehand slice again patiently even if he’d already done it twice before. He was so good with kids. Roger sighed again. Why couldn’t it be simpler?

Roger couldn’t do anything but watch him. Rafa was still impossibly fit even if his knees didn’t let him exercise much. He had the white shorts on, the ones that used to kill Roger every time Rafa wore them on tour and he couldn’t touch him. The bright green sleeveless Nike Court shirt clung to him with sweat, leaving nothing to the imagination. Roger watched. Rafa led the kid through his movements and, gods, his technique was still perfect, flawless, maybe slower and not as strong, but so good.

He had a white baseball cap on backwards and Roger didn’t get it, because sun was shining straight into Rafa’s eyes, but it seemed like it didn’t bother him. If he watched him any more he could fall right into him. Beautiful.

Rafa’s voice brought him back from deep in his mind. He was speaking in soft Spanish, telling the child that the lesson was over and that he would see him in two days. Roger understood enough Spanish by now. The kid high-fived Rafa, before scurrying off the court, the bag too big on his shoulders and the scrape on his knee long forgotten. They both watched him go, before Rafa came over to the bench and sat down beside Roger. He looked at him, his warm brown eyes happy and sad at the same time. The sad part belonged to Roger.

“Rogi,” he spoke softly. Roger couldn’t resist Rafa’s soft voice, he never could, he would do anything for him when he used the tone. Only now, Rafa was using it out of pain, desperation and not because he was being playful and wanted something from Roger. “We need to talk.”

It was true. They did. They couldn’t go on like that. It was destroying both of them and probably the most valuable thing to them – their relationship. They drove home in silence, but about half way during the ride, Roger reached over and placed a hand on Rafa’s thigh, squeezing gently. Rafa looked at him and gave him a tight smile, but right before he looked back to the road Roger could see a shadow of hope in his eyes.

He was nervous, he suddenly found out. This was probably the first time he was nervous – afraid of talking to Rafa. He had no idea what he would say. He’d done so many mistakes, was it even possible to apologize for all of them? And there, on the local road from the RNA to their home Roger figured how much this was his fault and how horrible he’d been. As Rafa said a few days ago, this was not like him. What the hell happened?

When they came home, Rafa parked the car and walked inside without a word. Roger followed him slowly, his heart getting louder and louder inside of his chest. He could do this. Rafa was in the kitchen, preparing them lemon water. ‘For cleansing,’ he would say if Roger asked him. He went to the living room, sat down on the couch, put his chin on the palm of his hand and waited.

Rafa was quick. Roger looked at him and noted that Rafa looked a bit nervous too. That was a surprise, Rafa was usually so calm and collected about stuff like that. This just reminded Roger about what he could lose, right here, right now. Rafa sat down on the couch beside him, passing him his glass. Roger thanked him and sipped on the bitter water. He’d do anything not to be the one the start the conversation. He had no idea how.

“I love you,” Rafa said so softly Roger barely heard him, but he did. Was that the way to start? It seemed too easy. He couldn’t help himself, he put the glass down on the coffee table and reluctantly wrapped him arm around Rafa’s shoulder. When Rafa leaned towards him he tightened his hold in relief, until they were sitting together, their bodies touching. Rafa rested his forehead to Roger’s temple and left it there, both of them just breathing for a minute.

“Rogi,” Rafa whispered. Roger opened his eyes. He didn’t even know he had closed them.

“Yes?”

“Let me talk, okay? Just let me talk. Let me find my own words, okay?” Roger agreed easily, nodding against Rafa’s head. Rafa gave him a briefest of smiles, before his expression turned serious again. “Look, you are the best thing to happen to me, no? You always make me happy and I am sure I don’t need anything else. I feel like that for very long time… I still feel like that. I not – don’t know what is going through your head, because you don’t tell my nothing, but I think, maybe is something he don’t want to share and is maybe why he is acting like that… But, Rogi, this is happening for many time now and I am confused… I… I don’t understand… I know you don’t want to hurt me… but- but maybe you just don’t know that you are…”

Roger knew well enough he was hurting Rafa. How could he not when it showed in Rafa’s whole appearance every time – the slump of his shoulders, his bowed head, his downturned lips, his sad eyes, even his hair seemed to shine less when he was sad. How could Rafa for a second be so naïve to think Roger didn’t know what he was doing?

“I know I said I don’t complain no more… but this… I think this – whatever this is – is hurting you too. Why you don’t tell me if something is wrong, Roger? I am- I am always here for you, no matter what… You tell me- you can tell me anything you want… No need to hold it inside. I know I am also a problem for” – Rafa waved around the air as he tried to find the word to describe their broken relationship – “this… I know my knees are annoying but believe me… they annoy me more than they annoy you. I know you don’t like my shrimps anymore and I know you don’t like me being…. Ah, how you say…. Pedantic, right?”

If Roger moved his head just right he could hear Rafa’s heartbeat and it calmed him down like nothing else in the world, grounding him, keeping him close. He wanted to speak up, to tell Rafa his shrimps were okay and that his knees didn’t annoy him. He inhaled deeply but Rafa put his hand on his thigh and squeezed before Roger could find the first word. Rafa was giving him a warning look and Roger closed his mouth, looking down at his lap. In the moment their eyes met, Roger saw so much determination and courage in Rafa’s that his heart squeezed painfully. Rafa would do anything to save their relationship. He didn’t know why that surprised him after everything Rafa had done for him already.

“I don’t read minds very well, Roger… I don’t know what goes through your head sometimes… and then… the- the way you act make me very confused, no? I just wish you would tell me stuff, no hiding, no secrets… we need to find middle way, no? And we need to talk to even… to try find it. I would do anything for you, but you need to let me know… I’m sorry for being this annoy- annoying this last days, but I… you- this situation is making me muy- very stressed and I…”

Rafa seemed close to distress. He was waving with his hands, his eyes fixed on everything but Roger, his leg bouncing quickly – another habit of his – beside Roger’s and his voice was getting louder and louder, but not in anger, he just didn’t seem to be able to find his words and it was probably frustrating him as many times before when they had to talk about something important.

Rafa seemed to give up on finding the next word. His bright sad eyes looked straight into Roger’s and Roger was in pain at the mere thought of him being the one who caused this sadness. “What is happening to us, Rogi?”

Roger supposed it was his time to speak. He tore his eyes away from Rafa’s sad ones and buried his face into his hands. How was he supposed to say everything that was on his mind, there was stuff he wasn’t even ready to admit to himself, how was he supposed to admit it to Rafa? He didn’t know where to start.

“Rafa,” he said weakly, it seemed like the only word he could manage and Rafa was there in less than a second, his hand an assuring weight on his thigh and his other hand wrapping around Roger’s forearm, pulling his hands away from his face. His fingers trailed to Roger’s and they laced together. Roger swallowed thickly, feeling on the verge of a panic attack.

He had to do this though. He had to do this for Rafa, who was there for him, always, unconditionally and all he wanted was an explanation to way Roger was acting like a jerk. The problem was that Roger didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. A thought passed through Roger’s mind. He could make something up. He could make up a problem, blame all of their problems on it, Rafa would believe him, he would forgive him, and they could go on with their lives.

This was so tempting, and Roger had to bite into his lip to stop himself from blurting out something irrational. He needed to be careful. But no, that wasn’t fair to Rafa. It wasn’t, and he shouldn’t do it. Rafa was willing to try and he was too. He really was but he never knew that admitting something would be so difficult. He was just so afraid of upsetting Rafa. He couldn’t just say, ‘you annoy me to death most of the time, you and your stupid knees, your crying in the middle of the night, your fucking shrimps, your inability to do anything for more than an hour before you’re in pain, I hate it’. He couldn’t find a way to put this lightly and he knew how much that would hurt Rafa. They both knew Rafa couldn’t do anything about his knees, it was so completely irrational that Roger got angry about it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Rogi,” Rafa spoke so softly that Roger almost broke. What was he doing here? He didn’t deserve him. “Tell me, please. I’m sure we find solution. Whatever… whatever is happening, okay? You can tell me.”

Roger wanted to believe him so badly, but he knew there was no way Rafa wouldn’t be hurt and offended if he said it. Another thought passed through his mind. You’re a coward. Roger tensed. He was. Rafa deserved better than that. Someone who would treat him the way he deserved to be treated. Jealousy passed through him at the mere thought of Rafa being with someone else though and he knew there was no way he was capable of being that selfless to leave Rafa to someone better.

“I… Mirka has cancer.”

“What?” What? What the fuck had he just said? Roger couldn’t believe his own ears at what had just came through his mouth. The shock froze him, and he couldn’t move while Rafa tried to coax him out of it, his eyes wide and scared, looking genuinely panicked. Roger felt a wave of nausea. What he had said couldn’t be taken back and even if it could, Roger was too far gone to do it. He pushed Rafa away, not baring his innocent touch and ran towards the bathroom. He wasn’t sure what his stomach was about to do.

Once safely inside their spacey bathroom he locked the door and slid down to the floor beside it. He’s always been the kind of father who stood anything but lying and making things up when it came to his kids, but Roger was very strict about it generally too. He never lied or made stuff up and every time someone else did it, it took a lot of apologizing and coaxing to get him to forgive them. And now Roger had just betrayed his life motto which was all about being honest and truthful. What was happening to him?

He leaned his head back against the door, thinking about all the ways this could go wrong? He should go to Rafa and tell him he made that up and explain why he did it, Rafa would probably understand and maybe they could still find the solution. But he… he just couldn’t. The thing wrapped around his heart painfully, guilt gnawing at him from the inside and he squeezed his eyes shut. What was he going to do? Maybe he could tell Rafa he would go to Switzerland for a few weeks, to clear his head and then come back, telling Rafa that Mirka was cured or something. He couldn’t exactly make her dead. Another wave of nausea hit him at the thoughts passing through his head. What kind of a man had he become?


	7. Find Out What Went Wrong Without Blaming Each Other

Roger couldn’t spend time with Rafa after that. He told the Spaniard he needed some distance, and Rafa, believing his ex-wife had cancer, let him be. Rafa was walking on egg-shells around Roger, being careful and quiet. He didn’t cook any more shrimps. He went to the academy alone while Roger stayed at home, lying on the deck chair and staring emptily at the pool.

His plan was working okay so far. Mirka and Rafa didn’t talk much anymore and a day after Roger pretty much ruined his life, he lied to Rafa with a completely straight face, telling him Mirka didn’t want anyone to know about her sickness and that she would be angry and disappointed if she found out Roger broke the promise he’d given to her. Rafa’s eyes widened and with a quiet, sad voice he said, ‘of course, Rogi, I tell no one I know.’

After Roger came out of the bathroom more than an hour later with his plan completely made up on how he was going to fix this, he found Rafa exactly where he left him with tears on his cheeks. Roger assured him that she was going to therapy and that there’s a chance of her being okay, but that it was still so stressful for him, especially since the kids were panicked and that there was so much on his mind he couldn’t even think anymore. He assured him that he felt better now that he’s got it off his chest and Rafa smiled tightly, reaching for his hand and pressing a kiss to it.

Roger would do anything to be able to delete that moment, but it happened, and he could do nothing to change it. He smiled grimly at the water. His plan needed to succeed. There were so many ways this could go wrong, end his relationship with Rafa that meant more than anything to him, end the friendship he’s spent years building with his ex-wife and possibly with his kids too. What the hell had he done?

When he went to bed that night he went with hope that it would be easier in the morning. Rafa snuggled close to him, giving him everything he had to make him feel better and with a guilty feeling getting worse and worse, Roger put an arm around him and pulled him close.

It didn’t get easier. With every day he spent in Rafa’s presence watching how sad the Spaniard was, but not because of him this time, but for him, which was even worse, especially because what he was sad for wasn’t even true, the weight on his shoulders became heavier and his heart hurt more. But it was too late to turn back now. It’s always been too late.

He pulled the phone from his pocket. He needed to book a flight and disappear before he went insane. He would book a hotel in Bern or Zürich and stay there. Just until his head cleared, and he could come to terms with what he wanted, until he was ready to accept Rafa the way he was, until he was nicer and until he would be able to give Rafa what he deserves.

When Rafa came back from the academy he found Roger exactly where he had left him a few hours earlier. He bit his lip in worry. He has never been that worried in his life. Ever. Roger just wasn’t himself anymore. There was just a shell left. Rafa couldn’t help but wonder, had he caused this too? Besides Mirka’s illness? Was he the one to reduce Roger Federed to the broken shell that was left of him? He approached him slowly and sat down on the other deckchair. Roger looked at him and smiled, but his smile was like most of the smiles he gave in a last few months – forced and tired.

“Rafa?” he said and Rafa’s head snapped up quickly, eyes pinning him down.

“Yes?” he asked, soft in contrast to his quick, sharp movements.

“I need to go Switzerland.” Rafa was nodding before he even finished the sentence. His eyes were accepting and loving, and Roger felt a lump in his throat. He needed to get away. “I booked a flight already. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I just… You know, she needs to go to the hospital a lot, and the kids are not taking it well. I just…”

“If you want, I come with you,” Rafa spoke up, looking up at him because Roger had already stood up and Rafa was still sitting. Roger froze in panic at his words his brain racing, trying to find a sensible excuse.

He couldn’t come up with anything better than, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The kids… They’re so sensitive and… Thank you so much, though, I appreciate it.”

Roger winced at the look of raw pain in Rafa’s eyes at the mention of his kids and their relationship. Only then Roger meant what it would mean for Rafa if he truly wanted to go with him. Ever since the argument it had always made him uneasy to be in their company, because it just reminded him of their broken relationship. But he would do it for Roger. He would stand the pain just to stand by Roger’s side.

Roger pulled Rafa up and hugged him close. The emotions inside of him were so painful he actually wondered if it was possible to die from it.

They fucked that night. For the first time in about a month. Rafa protested at first, but when Roger pushed his thighs apart roughly, he was pretty much gone, throwing his head back and moaning hungrily. They took each other’s clothes off quickly, desperately. Roger wasn’t sure where most of them landed. He could only think about feeling Rafa’s skin against his own, about having him again.

He could feel Rafa’s nails biting into his skin at the back of his neck and he gasped against Rafa’s lips. He was kissing him roughly, completely dominating Rafa’s mouth, bringing one hand up to hold his jaw in place. He wouldn’t let him escape this time.

Rafa drew one leg up and wrapped it around Roger’s hip, bringing their hips in contact. Roger hissed and broke their kiss to look down at Rafa as he thrust his hips against him. The Spaniard moaned low in his throat, almost as if he wanted to suppress the sound. Roger would do anything to hear it again, so he repeated the action again and again until Rafa threw his head back with his eyes squeezed shut, his skin already glistening with sweat.

“I need to fuck you, come on, turn around,” he mumbled against Rafa’s neck where he was sucking a bruise into the soft skin – just a reminder of whose Rafa was. He moved back to give Rafa space to comply and for a second their eyes met. Rafa’s pupils were blown wide with lust but as he struggled to maintain eye contact between them something like disappointment showed in the brown orbs. “Please,” he added quickly and didn’t let himself think much about what he saw.

“Careful for the knees,” Rafa reminded him as if Roger didn’t know. He calmed him with a kiss to his bronzed shoulder blade, before reaching for the lube. Roger prepped him quickly, maybe a bit too quickly since Rafa couldn’t seem to relax, writhing and squirming on the bed with sounds that weren’t quite moans coming from his mouth.

“God, I missed this,” he moaned when he finally pushed inside. He rested his head against Rafa’s shoulder blade to give them both time. “You need to relax.” He ran his hand down Rafa’s side and squeezed his hips reassuringly. It was as if every single muscle in his body was pulled taut and it took more than a few minutes to get him to relax a bit, while Roger murmured quietly in Rafa’s ear.

“Move,” Rafa finally said and even though his voice sounded strained and pained Roger obeyed and moved his hips slowly, building up a steady rhythm. Rafa’s fists were clenched into the pillow beside his head and every sound he let out was muffled by the fabric he was biting onto. His back was glistening with sweat, muscles in it still clenched and visible on the surface on the skin. They were still so prominent that Roger couldn’t resist running his tongue down the lines.

It couldn’t last, it’s been way too long since the last time. He gripped Rafa’s hair when he came and pulled his head up, so he could hear him scream as he pushed in roughly and bit down into Rafa’s neck. He fucked Rafa through his orgasm and then lazily sneaked one hand in between Rafa’s body and the duvet to stroke him to climax.

A few seconds later after their breathing returned to normal, Roger pulled out and threw himself on the bed beside Rafa. He turned his head to look at him, but Rafa didn’t move a muscle and was still lying on his stomach, with his head in the pillow. For one split second it seemed as if he wasn’t breathing and it was as if all of Roger’s worst nightmares, where he wakes up in the middle of the night and just finds Rafa dead, came true.

He gripped Rafa’s biceps as cold panic grabbed him worse than he seemed possible. Rafa finally raised his head at that and was surprised at the expression on Roger’s face. It was raw fear.

“Fuck,” Roger mumbled, his grip loosening and falling away. Rafa raised his eyebrows and leaned up on one elbow, frowning at the soreness that started spreading through the lower part of his body.

“What was that?” Rafa asked, his eyebrow still high up.

“Nothing,” Roger answered immediately. He was going crazy, wasn’t he? He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened either, but he had never felt panic more profoundly than in that moment. His heart was still beating wildly, and he felt cold sweat running down the back of his neck.

Rafa watched him for a second longer before he shrugged his shoulders and dropped his head back onto the pillow. Only then Roger noticed wetness around his eyes that the Spaniard had mostly already blinked away. He frowned.

“Have I hurt you?” he asked, bringing his hand up to touch Rafa’s face, running his thumb over his cheeks, his full lips, the wrinkled skin around his eyes, the place where his dimples would be if he smiled.

“No.” Rafa was looking straight into his eyes when he answered, but Roger didn’t quite believe him. There was a part of Rafa that was hurt by everything that had happened, not just the sex, and they both knew it.


	8. Think That We Got More Time

Roger didn’t let Rafa come to the airport with him. He talked him into staying home, telling him it was pointless, that it would cause questions and that neither Mirka nor them needed that in the moment. Rafa stared at him suspiciously, and suggested it would look even stranger like that, since he usually always went to say goodbye to him when he went to Switzerland. Rafa was right, like usually, but Roger couldn’t let him know he had a flight booked for Bern and not Basel like he was supposed to.

Moments like that made him wish he still had the private jet he sold soon after he had retired, but there was no was he would buy a new one, he was too old.

He pushed Rafa against the wall in the hall and kissed him. Rafa wrapped both of his hands around Roger’s neck and returned his kisses until Roger was almost tempted to stay at home and finish this. The guilt and everything else piled in him were quick to remind him of their existence though and he moved away. He gently pried Rafa’s hands away and his heart hurt at how sadly Rafa was looking at him.

He needed to move past this and the only way was by completing his plan. He was a horrible person, but what was done was done and he needed to go through with this, Rafa wouldn’t understand anymore, he’d waited too much.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said instead and pressed a kiss to Rafa’s forehead, running his hands through Rafa’s hair and tucking the strands behind his ear. Rafa gave him a brave smile and his hand grabbed Roger’s.

“Is okay,” he replied quietly, and those two little words gave Roger immediate throwbacks to the time Rafa’s English was shit and those were basically the only words he could say. Whatever Roger did, ‘is okay’. “Take as much time as you need. Mirka, the kids, they need you. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

 Rafa smiled a little wider and Roger couldn’t resist pecking his lips again, before he had to physically tear himself away. He gave Rafa another smile, before walking through the door. He let the smile fall as soon as Rafa couldn’t see him anymore. He could finally let the guilt absorb him and drown in it.

When he sat down into his car after loading a small suitcase into the back, he let his head drop to the steering wheel. He took a few deep breaths, trying to get himself together enough to drive. His hands were shaking, he noted, and he balled them into fists in hopes of stopping the tremor.

It shouldn’t be like this. He should be inside, with Rafa, holding him and they should be happy. This, whatever it was, wasn’t okay. He couldn’t exactly tell when it all went to shit, it was more of a slow downfall than anything else. He sighed, before trying to relax as much as possible. If he didn’t drive away soon, Rafa would come check what was going on. And Roger wasn’t sure he could handle those sincere eyes looking at him without breaking down. He needed to stay strong, even more for their relationship than just himself.

He turned on the engine and drove away slowly, eyes barely focused on the road. He just had so much on his mind. When he parked his car at the airport, in his usual parking spot, he realised he had no idea how he had got here. The period of time he spent driving from their home to the airport had disappeared as if it had never happened. Roger tried to ignore the fact that he was probably going insane, resisting the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel, before he got out of the car with a heavy heart and walked inside. He pushed the baseball cap he had on lower in hopes of hiding his face. The last thing he needed was people asking questions. He checked in his luggage before walking to the security check. He arrived later than he thought he would and he once again wondered what had happened on the way here? Was there heavy traffic? He couldn’t remember. There was only a nagging feeling that he should return home, before doing anything even stupider, but he ignored it. This feeling had been chasing him for the past few days and today made no difference.

“Have a nice flight, Mr. Federer,” one of the security guards said. Roger managed a weak smile as he took back his phone and wallet and stuffed them into his pockets.

“Gracias,” he mumbled, before continuing towards the waiting area. He was deep in thought even though there wasn’t a particular thing he was thinking about.

He remembered the first time he saw Rafa in person so vividly. Rafa was so wild and untamed on the court and shy and reserved off the court. It was probably exactly that what attracted everyone to like him. If there was something Roger learned about him that day, was that it was impossible to dislike him. Rafa seemed nervous when they first spoke, but Roger never got to find out if it was because he was speaking to Roger Federer or simply because his English was so bad that he barely understood Roger, let alone answer him.

He did manage to say some simple sentences about where he was from and how beautiful Mallorca was. From that moment on Roger liked Mallorca even if he’d never seen it before. The way Rafa expressively talked about it made him believe.

A small smile came upon his lips as the memory turned up, until he quickly reminded himself of what sort of situation he was in and his smile was immediately replaced by a frown. Someone sat down a few sits away from his and he caught the moment with the corners of his eyes. He looked towards the person and found a young man sitting there. After trying to discreetly look for a minute he realised he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from him because the man was reminding him of his younger self.

The guy suddenly turned his head into his direction and Roger quickly averted his eyes, already feeling extremely uncomfortable. He hoped that the lad wouldn’t recognize him. He stared straight down at his feet for a few seconds and relaxed a bit as time passed and nothing – no touches to his shoulder, no voices asking for photos or autographs – happened. He looked back up after a minute to notice someone had joined the guy. Another man who was the complete opposite. Where the first one was dark haired and had tanned skin similar to Rafa, the other one was blonde, and his complexion was lighter. When he turned around Roger noticed his eyes were blue. He had no idea why he couldn’t look away.

He watched their easy interaction and managed to pick up some of the quick Mallorquín they were speaking. They seemed excited about something and if Roger understood right it was the trip to Switzerland. A thought passed his mind and he wondered if they were a couple. He didn’t have to think for long though. The blond’s hand came to rest on the other one’s thigh and then he watched in bewilderment as they leaned close together and kissed.

He watched as if he were hypnotised, until the voice from the speaker shook him out and he quickly looked away, a blush spreading across his cheeks at the thought of openly staring at something so private.

He tried not to think about Rafa as he walked towards the exit, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was leaving a huge chapter of his life behind.


	9. When We're Falling Behind

Rafa woke up the sound of birds singing outside. He usually spent his sieastas outside on the deck chair, but he was so drained that he went straight to bed after lunch. The sun was just setting as he climbed out of bed, hissing when he stood up. It was getting harder and harder to hide his pain.

He wasn’t sure what had made him so tired, but he suspected he was tired emotionally and not just physically as he originally thought. He went downstairs slowly, being careful of his movements, because his knees were always stiff after being still for a longer time. He should be fine after a bit of a warm up.

He checked the time on the ridiculously expensive Richard Mille watch he was wearing. One of the good qualities were that he’d had it for more than ten years and it still worked flawlessly. He frowned. He slept more than intended and he was almost late for the training sessions he had at the academy. He ate a banana quickly and drank some yoghurt, before almost running out to his car. He almost forgot to lock the door, so used to Roger being at home if only he didn’t go to the academy with him.

He might have sped over some limitations as he drove, but the road was empty, and he didn’t want to disappoint the kids. He couldn’t help it.

He tried to keep his mind busy, but his thoughts just constantly gravitated towards Roger as if Roger was the centre of his universe. There was something weird going on. He’d been thinking that for the past few weeks, months even, but he was now completely sure. The way Roger reacted to Mirka being ill just wasn’t like him. Roger always handled everything calmly and he was known after it. It was just who he was, it wasn’t like him to panic, become distant, cold and rude.

Rafa couldn’t imagine himself being in that position though and there was a thought nagging his mind that he simply didn’t know Roger well enough. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly at the thought. He thought he knew Roger more than anyone, but even that wasn’t enough.

They had both changed, there was no point denying that. Tennis made everything so much easier and it just wasn’t the same anymore. This must have started right after his retirement and was unstoppably going downhill from then.

Rafa wouldn’t let it show, but he was so worried. He didn’t even dare think about what would happen if Mirka… if she didn’t make it. Someone would have to take care of the children and there was no way they would be willing to live with Rafa. Would Roger leave him for them? Yes, it would be the only logical thing to do, Rafa reminded himself. They’re kids, they need someone, I will survive. I’ve always survived.

He parked the car in the garage of the academy and sighed in relief when he noticed he still had ten more minutes to change and warm up a bit. He didn’t need the kids to think he was in pain. In their eyes he was still one of the best players in the world and he needed to act like it.

He led a group lesson on Thursday late afternoons. There was a group of kids, barely old enough to hold a racket, all locals and whose dreams were to live at the academy one day and become champions soon after. It might be a funny thing to say, but there was nothing Rafa admired more than their simplicity, strength, happiness and adorable, childish ignorance (Rafa you would win if you played Thiem, wouldn’t you?). Rafa didn’t have the heart to tell them the only thing he could do when playing Thiem would be to fall on his knees in front of him and kiss the very ground he walked on.

They were already waiting for him on the court when he came, and he tried to hide his tiredness by smiling.

“Hola, Rafa!” they greeted him as one and Rafa’s smile widened into a grin. He asked them how they were doing, and they talked for a minute, before they got to work.

Rafa had a feeling he would never get tired of this. He lived for the smiles on their faces, for the trophies their students won by hard work, for every polite greeting that he got, for every nice word. He’d never been a greedy person, but the older he got, the less he needed to be happy and he was thankful for that.

He threw them the balls and watched as they tried to get it to the other side of the court from the mini line. He was sure they would all make champions if they tried hard enough. They were the best of the age. He commented every shot, kindly, letting them know about their mistakes but leaving it up to them if they wanted to try fixing it or not. It was far more effective than yelling.

“Hey, Rafa!” One of the coaches came to the court, carefully dodging the balls as they flew right towards him. Rafa raised his head and smiled at Carlos.

“Carlos, hola!” Rafa replied, letting him know he’s been acknowledged, before he turned back to the kids. Nothing could ever be more important than them.

“I need to talk to you.”

The fact that he spoke in English got Rafa’s attention, because it meant there was something that wasn’t for the kids’ ears. He looked at Carlos, but the man gave him no sign of what he wanted to talk about, he just sent a desperate look into his direction, before turning around and walking to the bench where he sat down. Rafa frowned in worry. Was Carlos okay?

He turned to the kids and gathered them around himself, telling them to play in pairs until he got back. They listened to him like always, no questions asked. He walked to Carlos, biting his lip as worry spread through him. He didn’t do well when it came to bad news. He sat down beside Carlos and looked at him. Carlos stared back at him, looking deep in thought.

“Rafa, what’s going on?” he asked. Rafa’s eyebrows furrowed, looking confusedly at Carlos. What did this have to do with him? He’d been sure something was wrong with Carlos.

“Qué?” he asked stupidly, the only word that came to his mind. He put the racket down and took the towel to wipe his face and neck. Some things never changed. He took a sip from the bottle. He didn’t turn the labels towards the side of the court he was playing on anymore. He usually spent most of the training session on one side anyways and the kids used to make fun of this habit of his.

“What’s going on with you and Roger?” Carlos asked and Rafa froze in the middle of putting the bottle back down.

“What do you mean?” he asked after straightening back up. He looked at the kids, not bearing the eye contact Carlos was trying to hold.

“Rafa, I’ve known you since forever basically, believe me, I know when something’s wrong.”

Rafa frowned, subconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“It’s… Nothing’s wrong, Carlos,” he replied, immediately remembering Roger’s request not to tell anyone about Mirka. He would trust Carlos with his life, but it wasn’t his secret to share. “Roger is just going through… some stuff.”

“Well, where is he? Why is he not here?”

“He’s… taking care of this stuff.”

“Where?”

“Why it matters?” Rafa suddenly raised his voice, finally looking at Carlos, who raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, you’re getting defensive, that’s a clear sign something’s wrong. Tell me.”

Rafa sighed and Carlos noticed his eyes feeling with something like complete helplessness.

“I… Not here… Later. The kids are waiting.”

Another thing Rafa noticed about little kids was that they could always tell when something was wrong, even if they were too young to understand the reason. They always noticed, and they were always ready to do anything it took to help. They weren’t playing anymore, only one pair still trying, but with so many glances sent into Rafa’s direction the ball never made it to the other boy. They all looked curious, their little eyebrows furrowed in something like worry.

“Later,” Rafa repeated, already standing up. “After practice.”

Carlos looked at him for a moment, eyes so focused that Rafa felt as if he could see right into his pained soul. He turned away uncomfortably. He hated feeling so exposed.

“After practice,” Carlos echoed. “Don’t even try escaping, because I’ll follow you right to your house.” Rafa didn’t listen to his threat.

“Fine,” he mumbled and walked back on court, not giving Carlos another glance. He was starting to hate when Carlos constantly stuck his nose into his business. He knew that his ex-coach was merely worried about him, but he hated feeling this helpless. And everyone acting like he was vulnerable and weak didn’t help. He pulled his T-shirt down subconsciously where it had ridden up over his hipbones.

He’d lost his track and he found it hard to get back into the role of a trainer, a coach. And the kids were looking at him with big worried eyes that he couldn’t ignore. He knew that five-year-old kids wouldn’t pity him, but it suddenly felt like that and he hated it. He looked down at his watch. Time was going by far more slowly than usually. Perhaps it was because the only thing he was thinking about was going home and relaxing. Suddenly it wasn’t as much fun anymore and he wondered if it was Carlos or the look the kids were giving him.

He couldn’t just go though, so he put on his best smile and got back to work. After a few minutes they weren’t looking at him like he would shatter at any moment anymore and he could finally relax a bit. But he couldn’t get one though out of his mind. Did the whole world know they were having problems? It sure seemed like it, and he wondered when did they ever let it show.


	10. Gotta Make Up Our Minds

“What the fuck, he can’t just decide to be annoyed by your knees!” Carlos exclaimed. Rafa sighed, covering his face with his hands. He leaned back on the couch and crossed his legs.

“That’s not what I said,” he replied.

“That’s exactly what you said,” Carlos retorted, pulling Rafa’s hands away from his face.

“No, it’s not. Look, I can be a handful, you know that well enough and I keep him up at night so many times because of this and he…”

“So what if you do! It’s not like it’s your fault, that’s stupid.”

“Look, I’m not gonna sit here and say bad things about him, that’s not right, okay?”

“So, let’s make this clear. What you’re telling me is that he flew to Switzerland to visit his fucking ex-wife when your relationship is not okay and while you’re in pain?”

“Carlos, that’s enough,” Rafa said sharply. “I told you there are stuff he needs to take care of. His family needs him more than I do. Besides, why are you acting like I’m some sort of damsel in distress when you know I can take care of myself. I-“

“Can you, Rafa?”

“What?”

“Can you really take care of yourself? What about those mornings when you can’t get up from the bed? What are you gonna do then?”

For the first time since they sat down on the couch, Rafa looked at him. The look in his eyes was absolutely murderous and Carlos knew he had hit a nerve.

“I’m gonna get up. Like I always do. God damn it, Carlos. If my knees hurt that doesn’t mean I’m a fucking invalid, stop acting like it!”

“I’m not, I’m just worried about you.” Their voices raised until they were practically screaming at each other. Rafa stood up from the couch and backed from it, because being in a taller position always made him feel better in an argument.

“No, you’re not! You just don’t like Roger, you never did, and you’ve always been searching for reasons to dislike him even more. It’s been thirteen years, Carlos, you need to fucking get over it. You didn’t manage to break us up before and you won’t manage now. Get this into your fucking head!”

Rafa gave him one last angry glance, panting slightly, before he walked up the stairs angrily, his steps unnecessarily loud.

“Get out,” he said coldly, stopping in the middle of the stairs, before he finished his way up. A second later the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the air.

Carlos sighed, shaking his head. Yelling wasn’t like Rafa, but he supposed he did push it too far. Rafa had always set his heart out to protect Roger from everything, even from mere words and that hasn’t changed. He only felt slightly guilty though, because he was completely sure Roger was the reason for Rafa wilting like a flower right in front of his eyes. He knew him well enough to notice things that other people never did, and he knew something was terribly wrong and that something even worse could happen if he didn’t do something. He just didn’t know how to help someone who didn’t want help.

Rafa huffed angrily up in the bedroom, ready to kick everything that he could and beat the pillow until he tired himself out, but he wasn’t raised like that. He’s felt like this more times than he could count. On the court mostly, when he was in pain or frustrated or just had a bad day and couldn’t fucking get the ball over the net. And he’d never acted angrily. Sure, there might have been an annoyed eye roll or two, but he never screamed or cursed or kicked anything. It would only further disturb his concentration. He did lose his control a few times in the last year of his career, but those times were over.

He threw himself on the bed on his back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. There was no sound of the door opening and closing, what was Carlos still doing here? He remembered when they told their teams they were together. All of them were so confused when Roger and Rafa gathered them in the hall of Roger’s apartment, almost afraid of what could be coming. Carlos wasn’t a part of his team yet back then, but he was a good friend and he was there too.

They got mixed responses, but nobody was completely against the idea. Their families accepted them without a question, well, mostly, but their teams were more cautious, even though they learned to accept them quite quickly. But Rafa still remembered the look Carlos had given Roger. He saw it completely by chance when he turned around but the coldness and hate in his look scared him, even though the look wasn’t meant for him.

But Carlos had to accept them too after all. At least he had to act like he did. Rafa could never exactly tell if Carlos still hated Roger or if he grew out of it, because he was acting completely polite and kind around him, but now he knew. And he couldn’t believe that someone could be so bitter even after all those year. He never found out why Carlos didn’t like him in the first place. He asked a few times, but he never got an answer. And to be honest, after some time, he kinda forgot about it. He naively thought Carlos learned to adore Roger like everybody else. He’s been so wrong.

He sighed and turned around. He hated arguing with people. It made him feel so empty and lonely. But he can’t just let them talk badly about Roger, especially not when he’s having problems. Roger always came first to him, no matter what and he supposed that would never change even if Roger would have to leave him to take care of the kids. He would allow it and he wouldn’t make it hard for Roger, because what good would that do?

Finally, after some time of quiet thinking, he found the phone in his pocket and unlocked it. He’d forgotten to check it after waking up and then left it in the locker room at the academy. There were two messages from Roger waiting.

**Hola, mi amor. Landed in Basel, I will call you in the evening x**

He received that one while sleeping. There was another one that came just a few minutes ago.

**How was practice? Are the knees ok?**

Rafa smiled. Roger cared for him. Carlos was wrong, Roger did care for him.

**I’ll be waiting :) I miss you, I hope your flight was okay. The knees are fine, don’t worry. Did you see Mirka yet?**

He sent the message, which was delivered right away. Just a few seconds later, the ‘delivered’ turned to ‘read’ and three little dots appeared at Roger’s side of the conversation.

**Oh, baby, I miss you too. No, not yet. I just need to clear my head a bit. I’ll go tomorrow. I’m tired so I think I’ll go to bed a bit earlier today. Mind if I call you right now?**

Rafa smiled and quickly typed away.

**I’m waiting :)**

His phone started ringing just a second later and he picked up immediately, desperate to hear Roger’s voice.

“Hola,” he greeted, grabbing the duvet in his free hand.

“Hey,” Roger replied. He sounded tired, drained even. Rafa frowned.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, just tired, don’t worry. I didn’t get any sleep during the flight and you know how they tire me out. The pressure change and all that.”

“Sí,” Rafa agreed with a sigh.

“You sound sad,” Roger spoke.

“I do?” Rafa asked. He didn’t know he could sound sad saying one little word.

“Yes. Did anything happen?”

“I… I might had a little fight with Carlos,” he admitted after a second of hesitation. He didn’t want to worry Roger with his problems when he had enough of his own, especially now.

“What, about what?”

“It no matter, Rogi.”

“Of course it matters, tell me.”

“He said he worried about me but he act – acts like I’m an invalid and I got rude.”

“Oh, baby. I’m sure you weren’t half as rude as you probably think.”

“I don’t know. I feel bad because I yelled, but at the same time I’m very angry and I don’t wanna see him anymore.”

Roger laughed, and the sound brought a smile to Rafa’s lips.

“You don’t need to see him if you don’t want to.”

“I will see him at academy tomorrow.”

“Ignore him.”

“Roger!” Rafa exclaimed.

“What?” Roger replied. Rafa could hear how he tried to suppress laughter.

“Ignoring people is not nice.”

“Well, what are you gonna do then?” Roger asked, still laughing even though it was slowly dying.

“I gonna slap him.” Rafa said, not able to keep a straight face on. They both giggled and for a second it felt as if nothing was wrong and as if they were back on tour, one of them already in the city of the next tournament, because they’d lost and the other one still having more matches to play. They always spent the evenings talking over the phone, because it calmed them down and gave them energy for new challenges.

Rafa could slowly feel his bad mood disappearing. Roger always managed to make him feel better.


	11. Or Else We'll Play All the Same Old Games

As soon as the call was finished, the smile on Roger’s lips died. He hated how he couldn’t leave Rafa alone, how he couldn’t go an hour without speaking to him, how much he loved him and despite all that, how much he was hurting him. He sighed, throwing his phone on the bed harshly, watching it bounce, before he picked it up again. He looked at the picture he had for his wallpaper. It was cheesy, but it was a picture of a 2020 Wimbledon final, the last time they played in a final of a slam and the last time Rafa won a grand slam. The picture was taken during the trophy ceremony, Roger with the runner-up plate and Rafa with his trophy in one arm, the other thrown across Roger’s shoulders. His lips were close to Roger’s ear and he seemed to be saying something. Roger clearly remembered his words.

It will be you next year.

And it really was.

It was hard to believe how in love they were back then. Not that they weren’t anymore, but things got different. They used to be the cheesiest couple there could be, texting each other goodnights and good mornings, leaving hidden notes and presents, hiding in every corner to spend every possible second together. Now they were like a typical married couple. Having arguments about stupid things, being stressed, but they still loved each other. At least Roger hoped that hasn’t changed.

He sighed, looking around the hotel room he was staying at. He didn’t dare go to his apartment – he had one in Bern too -, he was afraid Mirka would somehow find out, she was so good at that. He had no idea how long he would be staying here for. He needed to clear his head first, that was for sure. And then he needed to think about getting out of this in a way that would be right. He owed that to Rafa.

He got on the bed, deciding on taking a nap. He’s probably been taking way too much naps lately, but he couldn’t help feeling so tired all the time. He couldn’t fall asleep though. This never happened to him. He could sleep like a baby – anywhere, anytime and in any situation and he huffed angrily as he turned around for the fifth time, finally opening his eyes. Why wouldn’t he fall asleep? He felt tired, his eyes were stinging but sleep just wouldn’t come. There was just too much stuff occupying his brain. And the guilt was the strongest. He didn’t know it would be so bad he wouldn’t be even able to sleep though. He sighed again.

After another few minutes of turning and huffing he finally stood back up, deeming this pointless and grabbed his wallet, phone and the key card. He put a hoodie on – Bern was cold even in the hot summer, especially because it rained during the night. And for once Roger was thankful. He could wear a hoodie and could even pull a hood up without people looking at him suspiciously. A pair of sunglasses finished off his attire. He decided to go for a walk, maybe this would relax him.

There was a couple in the elevator, eating each other’s faces off and Roger turned away in disgust. It was funny when he thought that Rafa and him used to be just like that. Not in public though, of course not, but he still remembered their interesting experience in an elevator in one of the Australian hotels. Every time he thought back to it, he still worried if someone had seen the camera tapes from that elevator. It wouldn’t do any good for sure. Roger smirked at the thought. It would definitely be an interesting way of coming out though. Why not with a sex tape?

After the elevator finally stopped, he was more than happy to step out. He considered telling the couple that they were on the ground floor, but they seemed so absorbed in each other that Roger decided not to bother them. After he stepped out the doors closed on them. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped towards the reception.

He didn’t need to ask anyone for any directions, he knew Bern quite well, but he asked the receptionist if he could get room service after getting back. After getting an affirmative answer he walked out of the hotel. He was doing fine so far, no one seemed to have recognized him yet. He just hoped it would stay like that.

It was evening by now and the sky was almost completely dark. The streets were filled with people, mostly couples, group of friends and families and Roger stood out against them. Here he was, all alone even though he had the best possible man waiting at home for him, wearing a black hoodie, with sunglasses in the middle of the evening. He cringed at the thought and took off the sunglasses. That must have looked a bit weird.

He just walked around the city for a long time. He roamed the streets he’s never been to before, wondering if he would get lost. He didn’t even care. After a while he stopped in front of a bar, staring up at the neon sign above the door. This wouldn’t do him any good, but what better thing was there to do? It was funny how he thought of Rafa every time he was about to do a stupid thing and yet he still did it.

He shrugged his shoulders and stepped inside. He was hit by the hot humid air, people chattering and yelling over the music which was blasting through the speakers. The bar was crowded, but Roger supposed it would get even fuller as the night as the night went on. He walked up to the bar and sat down on the bar stool. He leaned his elbows on top of it and dropped his chin into the palms of his hands.

“What can I get for you?” The waitress turned to him and spoke in Swiss-German.

“A beer,” Roger replied, keeping his head down. No one must know he was here. She caught her giving him a weird look, but she didn’t say anything, taking out a glass and filling it with beer. She passed it to him without another look, he had probably come off as rude. He couldn’t exactly help it though, could he?

More than ten minutes passed by until what he feared most happened.

“Roger? Roger Federer?” He sighed and closed his eyes momentarily, before he looked up at the person, who had spoken, standing on his right. The man somehow seemed familiar to him and he didn’t answer right away, not even knowing what to say. He browsed through his brain, trying to find why this man seemed familiar, but he couldn’t tell. “Roger,” he repeated, sitting down on the empty chair beside Roger’s. “I… Do you remember me?” He spoke Swiss-German flawlessly but there was a weird accent that Roger couldn’t decipher.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. He was afraid the man would think there was something seriously wrong with him if he stayed silent for another minute. “I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

The man smiled, and Roger had seen this smile before, he just couldn’t fucking tell where. Not a fan, it seemed, but how could he be sure?

“Oh, Roger, you were looking at me almost every day for seven years, I’m sure you must remember.”

And then it finally dawned on Roger.

“Elias?” He exclaimed, barely believing his own eyes. Elias laughed, winking.

“I was beginning to worry,” he chuckled and then ordered his own beer when the waitress turned to him with a grim look on her face.

Roger thought that a common bar would be the last place where he would meet one of his elementary school classmates. Elias and he used to be great friends actually, they even went to tennis together for a few years, until incredible potential was seen in Roger and he was put on intensive training.

“Oh, my God, I’m sorry, I just really wasn’t expecting to meet you here. Hey, how are you?”

“Quite well, actually. I’m just on my way from work, decided to stop here and get a drink. Wasn’t expecting to see you here as well, that’s really the last place I’d imagine the famous Roger Federer to be.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda… Look, I’m sorry, would you mind speaking a bit more quietly? I… Well, I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”

“Oh,” Elias replied, his eyes widening. He used to love secrets when they went to school. Roger wondered if he still did. “I’m sorry, of course.”

Roger smiled in relief, he didn’t want to use any special skills of his to get Elias to stay quiet about that.

“And what are you doing?” He asked, changing the subject, turning it away from him.

“Um, well, I’m a coach,” he replied. He suddenly seemed almost shy and Roger hated the affect he had on people that used to act normally around him.

“Really? You never let go of tennis, did you?”

“I tried, my parents, I don’t know if you remember how they are, but they weren’t happy with the idea of me becoming a coach, I mean I never was a very good player and they said going to the sports academy wasn’t perspective. They were probably right, you know, but tennis, I don’t know, I was never able to stay off the court for long. And I got into the academy and now I do something I love every day and I couldn’t be happier.” He stopped suddenly as if something had crossed his mind. “Oh my God, Roger, so many things have happened.”

Roger had to agree.

“How is Mirka, the kids?” Roger barely remembered the last time Elias and him had seen each other, but he knew Mirka and him were already a couple back then, or at least right on becoming one, so Elias had met her.

“I… We don’t speak much about personal stuff anymore. The kids neither. But they’re okay. Mirka has a new boyfriend… I think, or she had one at least. She opened a new company, I must admit that I don’t know exactly what she does though. We’re good friends. The kids play tennis and they’re pretty good, especially Lenny. He could be a champion once.”

“Right. I thought you’d keep a closer contact, you’ve always had an amazing connection.” Roger smiled grimly. Everybody thought so. “But Rafa, huh? I must admit I was shocked.”

“Everybody was and I really can’t blame you,” Roger replied, staring at his glass. He had momentarily forgotten about his problems but this conversation brought them back.

“Well, how is he then? He used to be my favourite, you know? I liked him even better than you.” Roger chuckled. Elias just wouldn’t stop talking and that was something that hasn’t changed. The small smile on his lips quickly died though. The normal response would be, ‘He’s well, thank you.’, but here was an old friend, who Roger used to trust, who was willing to listen to his problems, would it really be a crime to let some of the weight off his shoulders? He thought for a second longer, before speaking.

“Well… He… He’s not very well, I don’t know how else to put it. His knees are horrible, there are times when he can’t even walk without painkillers and it just gets frustrating, you know, for all of us, but for him especially. It kills me that he’s in so much pain but there’s nothing we can do. But otherwise he’s fine. He’s coaching too, as you may know, and he couldn’t be happier about how the Academy is going. Oh, and we’ve got a cat.”

Elias laughed at his last sentence, before his eyes seemed to sadden.

“Tennis has always been dangerous,” he said, “but it makes you love it so much that you simply can’t let go. And it’s been difficult for me, I can’t even imagine how difficult it must have been for you guys on tour and Rafa especially. Jesus Christ, this guy has been injured more time than I can count.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Roger replied grimly, squeezing his now empty glass. “But enough about me,” he said, before Elias could even open his mouth to apologize. “You know way more about my life than I about yours, it’s not fair. Start talking.”

“Um, well, it’s a bit loud here. What do you say, come over to mine, you’ll meet my family and then we’ll talk? I never really thought I’d have the chance to speak to you again and I can’t let that pass, can I?”

Roger laughed, before thinking a little. Why not, he had nothing better to do. If he stayed here, he would get drunk and then stumble his way back to the hotel with a big chance of someone seeing him, where he would eat as much food as he could handle, feel sorry for himself and then probably drown in the bath tub. This definitely didn’t sound like a good idea.

“Sure,” he said, smiling, “why not?”


	12. And We Wait for the End to Change

Time never went as slow as when Roger was gone. Rafa once again woke up alone. He pressed his face against Roger’s pillow and breathed in his scent that was still lingering here. He would have to change the sheets today, it’s been two weeks and the scent would wash off. The thought made him sad, but hey, there were always Roger’s unwashed jumpers to use if he wanted the smell.

He got out of bed slowly, careful not to disturb Tiger who was sleeping at the foot of the bed. Now that Roger was away she was free to do so, he would never allow it. Well, what Roger doesn’t know can’t hurt him, Rafa thought and scratched her behind her ears. She purred softly, rolling around on her back and Rafa smiled. He adored her. He let her be and went downstairs, still in his boxers. It was Sunday, his free day. He smiled at the thought, until the smile fell from his lips as he remembered Roger wasn’t here to spend it with him.

He didn’t want to be alone, not today. He heated some milk in the microwave and made himself steamy cocoa that felt good even on hot summer days such as this one. He should go to the grocery shop while it was still open; he didn’t go yesterday because he was lazy, and he was running out of bread and milk even though he was alone. He spread way too much Nutella on the last two slices of bread, trying to ignore how unhealthy his breakfast was. To make up for it he ate an apple and a banana, before feeling so full that he decided on a few minutes of breakfast siesta, before deciding what to do for the day.

He sat down on the couch, turning on the TV where a reality TV show was playing. Rafa had never seen a stupider thing. Luckily for him his phone rang in that moment and he frowned, picking it up. It was Roger. A smile spread over his lips at the thought.

“Hola, Rafa,” he was greeted. “Have I woken you up?”

“No, no, I’m up,” he replied quickly, “hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Roger chuckled. Still, Rafa heard how tired his voice was. His frown deepened in worry. He couldn’t tell how Roger was doing without seeing his face and it was stressing him out. He worried Roger’s state might be even worse than what it sounded like.

“How is Mirka, the kids?” he asked, because he didn’t want to press further into the subject. He wasn’t quite sure he could deal with this right now.

“I… The kids are fine, Mirka is starting therapy, we’ll see.”

Rafa couldn’t help but notice there was something like hesitation at the beginning of his sentence. He tried to ignore it, biting his lip.

“Oh… I hope everything will be okay,” Rafa replied, lying down on the couch, putting a pillow behind his head. He sighed, listening to Roger breath on the other side.

“Yeah, me too,” Roger replied after a few seconds.

“I… Roger… I’m sorry, but you got any idea when you get back?”

“Rafa, you know I can’t say. When she gets better.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Rafa quickly apologized, scolding himself for posing that question, he knew he shouldn’t have. “I just… I miss you. How about for a visit?”

Roger laughed but it sounded tight. “Baby, I just got here, it’s been four days.” Rafa couldn’t find it in himself to laugh though, desperately waiting for an answer. “But yes, if it takes longer, I’ll definitely come home in between, you know that.”

It was like a weight lifted off Rafa’s shoulders and he sighed softly. That was okay.

“But not yet, okay? The kids just got used to me being around.”

“Okay. Are they… Do they know?”

“No… Yes! Yes, they do. They are old enough after all.” Rafa frowned. That was weird, that was so fucking weird. He decided to ignore it. Roger was probably stressed, or maybe he had understood him wrong at first. Rafa hated himself for doubting him.

“Yes, for sure,” he replied instead, squeezing the couch cushion with his free hand.

“What are you going to do today?” Roger asked, obviously trying to change the subject. Rafa let him, even though there were so many questions running through his mind.

“I’m not sure yet. I maybe visit my family. I don’t know.” He didn’t want to stress Roger out by telling him he was thinking of asking Miguel to hang out with him. He knew Roger got jealous easily and saw no reason to tell him something like that.

“Okay. Say hi to them if you go.”

“Sí, of course. You too to Mirka and the kids. Maybe not the kids, I mean, I don’t know.” He heard Roger chuckle softly on the other side.

“Don’t worry about it, I will tell them.”

“Is… Is okay?”

“Of course, baby, stop worrying your brain about stuff like that. We raised them into polite kids and I’m sure they’ll say hi back.”

“Oh, okay then,” Rafa replied, a bit of the anxiety leaving him.

“Okay,” Roger agreed, as if he had nothing better to say. Maybe he didn’t. “I have to go now, I’ll talk to you later?”

“For sure.”

“Good bye.”

Before Rafa could reply Roger hung up and a beeping noise followed. Rafa didn’t remember ever feeling so cold after finishing a call with Roger.

“Adios,” he mumbled, before throwing his phone to the other side of the couch, where it ended up somewhere in between the pillows. He threw his head back and groaned, his feelings a mix of frustration, suspicion and sadness. He would go mad if he spent another day alone. After less than a minute of thinking he got up and reached for his phone again, opening his messages and composing a quick text to Miguel.

**Are you free today?**

He sighed anxiously as he waited for the reply. His leg was bouncing up and down. Why was he that nervous? It was as if his mind was trying to tell him nobody would want to hang with him and that he shouldn’t be wasting his time. Was he being selfish? The thought slowly spread to him. He bit his lip, he thought he had overcome those childish fears of his. He used to be quite insecure when he was little and then again after his parents’ divorce, but after Roger and he got together the negative thoughts in his head disappeared.

Sure, there was a lot of negativity when it came to his body, his injuries, but those seemed like nothing in comparison to feeling like a burden to somebody. Rafa hated it. And it wasn’t just now with Miguel, when he felt like he was wasting his time. He’s often felt like that in the last few months with Roger, all the times when he woke him up, when they couldn’t do something Roger wanted to, because Rafa couldn’t fucking move, when he was annoyed to death because of his knees and took the frustration out on Roger which he truly regretted. But it didn’t come to the surface while Roger was here, Roger pushed it down with his kind actions every time the insecurity threatened to break through his skin.

But now he was alone and there was no one to assure him. And when he was alone his mind raced. What if Roger went to Basel just to get some time away from him? He shook the thought off before it could fully evolve. No, Roger wasn’t like that. But what if he had got that horrible that even Roger who was the kindest person he knew wasn’t able to stand him anymore. His hands started shaking and he balled them into fists, before standing up. He needed to stop, this won’t get him anywhere.

Maybe Miguel was still sleeping and that was why he didn’t answer. He could go out to the pool and try swimming a bit, while waiting for the reply. He went to change into his swimming trunks, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror and frowned. He’d put on some weight, he should really stop eating Nutella. He turned away, walking back downstairs.

The water in the pool was calling out to him. It was completely still, looking fresh and clean and Rafa suddenly couldn’t wait to get inside. He’d learned to almost hate the pools after his knee problems and the pool was mostly for Roger’s benefit anyways, but maybe, just maybe they wouldn’t hurt if he swam a few lengths very slowly and carefully.

He got into the pool sighing in pleasure as pleasantly cold water touched his skin. He loved cold water, everything from showers to the sea. He managed two lengths and his knees were only slightly hurting when his phone beeped where he left it on the deckchair. He swam to the edge and pulled himself up, drying his hands on the towel before reaching for his phone. Miguel had replied.

**For sure! Do you want to go fishing?**

Rafa thought for a second. There was relief spreading through him, because he had replied and the anxious feeling from before suddenly seemed irrational. But he didn’t want to go fishing, not today. He was too tired, and he wanted to spend his free day relaxing. He knew this wasn’t like him, usually being an active and restless person, but it was okay to relax every once in a while, no?

**Could you come to my house? If you have time.**

He didn’t have to wait long, Miguel’s answer came immediately.

**Of course, is anything wrong?**

Rafa sighed. Was he really acting this weird that everybody thought something was wrong with him? There was nothing wrong, he just wanted company. A thought occurred in his mind; stop lying to yourself. Rafa shook it off.

**No, I just want to hang out with you.**

He didn’t want any more questions, they stressed him out like nothing else. Just thinking about answers he could give to stop more suspicion from rising was difficult and tiring. He just wanted a little break.

**Oh, okay, Roger won’t mind?**

**Roger’s not here.**

What he had just typed sounded almost like a betrayal in Rafa’s head. He bit his lip, looking down at his phone. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, was he?


	13. And We Take it for Granted That We'll Be the Same

Roger had no idea what to do with himself. This was the fifth day in a row he spent lying in bed and doing absolutely nothing productive and it started showing on him. He hadn’t shaven since leaving Manacor and his stubble was pretty long now, but he didn’t even know if he had brought the razor with him or not and he didn’t bother checking. He was too lazy to shave anyways.

He watched shitty shows on the TV, ate the food he ordered with room service and slept. He missed everything about Rafa. Gods, he missed him so much. He regretted the decision he had made every second of every day, but he couldn’t go back. The thought clenched around his heart, squeezing it until his chest was full of pain. He reached for the half-empty glass of whiskey on the night stand. He paused as he brought the glass to his lips. What had his life become?

He should be at home now, with Rafa. Him thinking that won’t make it true though and he shrugged his shoulders, drinking the rest of the strong drink in two sips. The whiskey dulled his senses and he could feel the pain disappearing just slightly if he drank enough. He could imagine how happy the vulturous press corps would be if they saw him at the moment. Roger Federer, more than just a little drunk, lying in the bed at the hotel miles away from where he should be, unshaven, unwashed. He almost smiled at the thought. That would make pretty headlines. He poured himself another glass, staring at the bottle like it was the reason for all of his problems. A strange thought occurred to him. He missed Rafa’s shrimps. He would give anything to go back to him, even if just for the night, so Rafa could wake him up with his frustrated crying. He would do anything to have him in any form, for the good or the bad.

After a second Roger found himself repeating the wedding vows. He didn’t know why, but it seemed like a great thought at the time. It was probably the alcohol running through his veins. He wasn’t even surprised when nausea started rolling in his belly. He had drunk way more than what he was used to. He was so stupid. The stupidest person alive, he thought as he almost crawled to the bathroom, his legs too weak, too rubbery to hold him up.

He barely got to the toilet in time, before he threw up, his stomach completely emptying itself of all the food he’d had for dinner. After he was done he rested his head against the toilet. Tears were slipping from his eyes, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he hated vomiting and felt totally disgusted with himself or because of the guilt he was slowly drowning in. His throat was burning because of the acid and no matter how much water he drank it wouldn’t go away. He felt horrible. He walked back to the bed, snuggling under the covers, his body trembling. He was burning up just seconds ago while throwing up, but now he felt as if he was freezing and there was no way to warm up.

Rafa would warm him up in seconds, his body was always hot and he would always snuggle up with Roger if he was cold, determined to make him warm in the quickest time possible. He would wrap all of his limbs around him, held him and kissed him until Roger wasn’t heated from the warmth of Rafa’s body only, but from arousal pooling inside of him too. Rafa would then climb on top of him, his kissed turning hotter and deeper, body lowering down on top of Roger’s, their hips pressed together. He would move his lips to Roger’s neck then and then all over his body until he was completely sure Roger was thoroughly warmed up. They would have sex, or maybe they wouldn’t. It wouldn’t matter. Roger just wanted him close.

He looked at the bottle of whiskey and glared at it. He was still feeling horrible, his tummy not quite settled yet. His senses were coming back, his feelings even stronger than before. And this was what Roger hated about the alcohol. He’s been always told to stay away from it – all his life, he taught his children that, he reminded Rafa about it when he got a little out of hand at the parties and here he was, the biggest hypocrite, drinking his life away while he should be making it better. Alcohol helps for a little while, then you throw up and feel horrible and then everything you were trying to drink away comes right back and you’re back at square one, only this time you know this is not going to help, that you’re the only who could make this mess right, and still, you drink again and again and again.

Roger had heard so many horrible stories about alcoholics and he didn’t want to become one, that was really the last thing he wanted, but he was just so alone and the alcohol looked so good, it even tasted good and he used to hate it, and it helped, just for a little while as he had already figured out, but it did help. He drank for that hour or two when he could forget he was a horrible father, a horrible friend, but mostly a horrible husband. He could forget about their relationships, about the pain he was causing them both with his careless actions, about the state of their bodies, about how he was going to make this right. He could forget everything and relax for a bit, watch stupid shows that surprisingly made more sense when he was drunk.

He was on the verge of falling asleep when his phone rang. He groaned quietly, reaching towards the night stand. He wouldn’t pick up if it was Rafa, he would immediately know Roger was drunk. He sighed in relief when he saw it was Elias. They had exchanged their phone numbers on the day they met, and Elias had promised he would call him to keep him company some time. Roger just wasn’t quite sure now was the right time. He was drunk and felt like he had to throw up again and in no state for seeing people. Still, he didn’t want to come off as rude, so he cleared his throat which was still burning and picked up.

“Hello,” he said. What a lame way to start the conversation.

“Hi, Roger,” Elias’ voice was cheerful like it had always been. “Listen, I didn’t want to bother you, holidays and all that, but would you like to come to dinner with my family and me? The kids were so impressed by you and they keep asking me if we could meet again. Wait, you’re still here, right?”

Roger had to chuckle even though his head started hurting. He liked Elias’ kids. A boy and a girl, aged ten and twelve. About his kids’ age. They were really polite, and Elias’ wife was a beautiful and nice woman. Everything about their relationship reminded him of the one he used to have with Mirka. In this situation he found himself missing Mirka too. They were great friends and if she wasn’t involved into this situation Roger had caused he could talk to her about what was happening, and she could help. But after creating such a huge lie about her he felt sick at the mere thought of speaking to her. He had ignored the last five of her calls and all of her text messages. It was risky, but he just couldn’t.

He felt in no state for going out but if he said no today, Elias would understand it wrong and Roger would be lonely until the end of his stay here in Bern which he didn’t yet know how long it would be. He planned to only stay for long enough to get his head cleared but it also had to be a period of time in which someone can get cured of cancer and after he did some research he found out this could take more than a year. Could he keep a lie up for that long?

“I’m still here,” Roger said. “Sure, why not? What time did you have in mind?”

He had thrown up all of his dinner anyways and perhaps a little walk would clear his head and company could perhaps cheer him up a bit.

“Wonderful. The kids will be so happy. How about we come pick you up in about half an hour, is that okay?”

Roger quickly did the math, yes, he could get ready if he hurried a bit.

“That’s great,” he replied. If Elias had noticed his voice was weird he didn’t let it show.

“Great! We’ll be there. Thank you so much, Roger, this means a lot to the kids and to me too of course.”

Roger smiled. Even the smallest nice words made him emotional. In the middle of all the bad that was happening, still being able to make someone happy was a relief.


	14. But We're Making All the Same Mistakes

Rafa was just finishing cleaning the table and the kitchen counter, when the bell rang. He raised his head, his mood lightening a bit. He just couldn’t wait to not be alone anymore. He walked to the door, unlocking and opening it quickly, smiling up at Miguel.

Miguel was taller than him and two years younger. He coached at the football club both of them used to go to when they were young. He was known for always being in a great mood, having the ability to cheer anyone up, being able to make friends just about with anyone and Rafa was lucky to have a friend like him, who was also incredibly trustworthy.

“Hola,” he greeted him, stepping inside and giving Rafa an one-armed hug. He followed Rafa inside, setting a bag he had brought on the kitchen aisle and sitting down on one of the bar stools. Rafa peered inside it.

“For me?” he asked, smiling.

“Yes, I know how much you love fresh fruit and I stopped at the market on the way here, you could make a smoothie, somehow mine are never as good as yours.” Rafa grinned at him, taking out the plastic box of strawberries, one with blueberries, a few bananas, a bag of kiwis and a few apples. “I didn’t know what you put in those smoothies, so I got a little bit of everything.”

“This is perfect, thank you,” he said, setting the fruit on the counter in a line. He took out the blender and a knife, getting to work with the promised smoothie. It would do him good after all the Nutella he’s had.

“Well, I’m glad,” Miguel replied. He had dark hair and unusually blue eyes for a Spaniard. He was straight out of a magazine, actually, still being incredibly fit at 36 and having a charm that could win anyone over. Not Rafa of course. “So, what’s going on?” he asked as Rafa took the strawberries one by one, cutting them and putting the pieces into the blender. “Your message sounded urgent.”

“I was just feeling a bit…” Rafa hated that word. “Lonely. I’m sorry if I made it sound urgent.”

“No, no problem, I just got a bit worried. Rafa, you seem sad, you know.” Rafa cut into a strawberry like it was the source of his problems. Everybody was saying that.

“Everybody is saying that,” he repeated out loud. Miguel sighed.

“Then there must be some truth in that, don’t you think? Look, Rafa, I know you and I know you’re sad. There’s nothing wrong with that and even if you don’t want to tell me the reason, just know that I’m here for you if you ever need anything.”

Rafa turned around and smiled, even as his face burned in something like humiliation. He almost felt as if he was visiting a therapist. He hated that sense of helplessness and he did visit quite a few therapists in his career. “Thank you, Miguel,” he replied, peeling a banana, “but don’t worry, everything is okay.” He knew Miguel didn’t believe him, but he ignored the sceptic look on his face. The silence was almost uncomfortable, and he worked quickly to finish the smoothie, put it into high glasses and gave one to Miguel.

“Oh my God, that smells delicious,” Miguel moaned. Rafa rolled his eyes at the man’s obvious exaggerating.

“Come on, let’s go out on the patio,” he said and opened the sliding glass door that led out of the living room. Miguel followed him, and they sat down at the table they usually used for barbecues and parties outside. They usually had dinners in summer there too.

“So, where’s Roger?” Miguel asked and Rafa kind of hoped this question wouldn’t be asked. But here it was, and he had to answer. He could do that, but he had to do it without making himself seem even more sad. People were right. He supposed he hasn’t been himself for quite some time. But maybe, people would just have to get used to the new Rafa. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with him, perhaps he had just changed, and everybody would have to accept that if they wanted it or not.

“He went to Basel,” he replied courtly, making Miguel frown while he sipped from his glass.

“Really, why?”

“Family stuff to solve.”

“Oh, I guess that explains why you seem sad.”

“I’m not sad!” Rafa exploded, putting his glass on the table with so much force he spilled some over the edge. “Fuck! I’m just…”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Miguel replied, putting his hands up defensively, while Rafa was already standing up to get something to clean the table. “Sit down,” Miguel said and stood up himself. “It’s my fault, I’ll clean it.”

Rafa was ready to protest, but Miguel had already disappeared inside and Rafa sighed. He knew Miguel was just being kind, but a part of his brain was telling him he only helped Rafa because he thought he couldn’t do it, pitying him. Rafa pushed the thought away, but he couldn’t quite get rid of it. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, opening his private twitter account. He didn’t spend a lot of time on social media, but he listened to the advice his sister had given him a long time ago and made private accounts on all of them, which made it way easier to get some news without the fear of people finding out who or what he was stalking.

Miguel came back out just as the app loaded and the news started pouring in. “There, just raise the glass a bit, okay, and around the glass. You can put it back down.” Miguel wiped off the spilled-over smoothie, but Rafa could barely here him. He followed a few of Roger’s fan accounts which was a dare between them a long time ago and Rafa just never bothered unfollowing them.

And now he had no idea if he hated himself for it or if he was thankful. The accounts of course made sure to inform people all about Roger’s whereabouts. Rafa was staring at his phone almost motionless and Miguel stopped wiping the table to look at him.

“Rafa?” he asked. The older man needed some time to even hear him and only then he registered that he was being asked for attention. He shook his head, quickly locking the phone, almost throwing it to table which made Miguel wince, while Rafa’s face remained completely blank. His mind raced all around, a thousand questions threatening to burst. But one was the most prominent of them all.

What the fuck was Roger doing in Bern?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama is comingggggggggggg
> 
> Thank you for reading :) I love you all mucho


	15. Wake up, We Both Need to Wake up

“What happened?” Miguel asked.

“Nothing,” Rafa replied shorty, taking a sip from his smoothie, as he willed his brain to calm down. His leg was bouncing up and down, but he wasn’t even aware of it until Miguel’s hand on top of his thigh stopped him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Rafa.”

“It’s nothing,” Rafa repeated, harder this time, on the edge of angry, but he should have known that wouldn’t be enough for Miguel, he had always been a very persistent man.

“Rafa,” he sighed and the almost sad sound of it was enough to have Rafa look up at him, immediately feeling guilty for having snapped at him. “I understand if you don’t want to share stuff with me, I’m not going to force you, but I have a feeling that deep down you really need to tell someone everything that you’re bottling up inside or you’re just going to explode one day. And when, if, you realize that, I’ll be here to listen. You can trust me, okay? With anything.”

Rafa looked at him, searching for any sign that Miguel was just making all of this up, God knows why, but he saw nothing but sincerity and worry in his blue eyes. Rafa was already on the verge of crying. Miguel was right; he was keeping too much stuff inside, but he’s made a promise.

“I… Thank you, Miguel, really, but it’s not… I’m okay, I’m –“ His voice broke on the next word and before he even knew what was going on he was crying, burying his face in his hands. All the emotions that suddenly came to the surface were so powerful his body shook with the force of the sobs and he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. God, it’s been so long since he cried in front of someone who wasn’t Roger. His husband made him feel safe and he could cry in peace as strange as it sounded, while crying with someone else present always made him feel vulnerable and strangely exposed. He hated it.

But with Miguel it somehow wasn’t so bad. There was a hand on his shoulder, a weight keeping him to the ground and he was saying something, but Rafa needed a few seconds to decipher what, the emotions too powerful for anything else to reach him at first.

“- worry about it, Raf, cry it all out.” The nickname Roger usually used made him cry even harder and he curled up on the chair, sobbing into his knees. “That can’t be comfortable, let’s get you inside.” Very reluctantly Rafa let himself be pulled up and led into the living room, with a hand around his waist that was all too familiar to Roger’s, yet not his.

The moment he was on the couch he curled close into Miguel’s side, not caring about how that must look like to an outsider. He needed a hug. He cried into Miguel’s shirt, no doubt leaving it wet with his tears and snot. The thought seemed funny at the moment and he laughed, until he remembered why he was crying, and another wave of tears hit him like a hurricane.

Miguel was stroking his back, a gentle methodical up and down movement and Rafa was relaxing into it. He wasn’t saying anything, not giving Rafa any pointless excuses, but occasionally murmuring ‘it’s okay’, ‘don’t be ashamed’ or ‘let it out’.

It took time but after a while Rafa stopped crying, untangling himself from Miguel, straightening out his legs, which protested at the moment and he grimaced, while he reached to the coffee table to get a tissue.

“God, I’m a mess,” he mumbled, wiping off the tears and blowing his nose, with smaller occasional sobs still leaving him as his mind wandered back to all the emotions he’s been hit with. “I’m sorry,” he added, feeling even more guilty as he looked at Miguel’s wet shirt. The man merely shrugged, his eyes fixed on Rafa with something like… pity? No, no, it was worry.

“Roger…” His lips trembled just saying his name, but he will let some of this out, Miguel was right, he needed it and he did trust Miguel. More than anyone right after Roger and his family. “He was supposed to go to Basel because of some family stuff I can’t tell you about, I promised him, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s important and I understood completely and made no questions about him having to leave. We’ve been talking for a few days ever since he supposedly arrived in Basel and he’s said on more on one occasion that that’s where he is.

“But I’m… Well I’m stupid, I suppose. I didn’t think until today to check my twitter account, because you know I don’t do that often, but everything around his leave seemed shady and by now I should get used to his fans knowing more about him than me. He’s been spotted in Bern which is miles away from where he should be. And he told me he was spending time with his family, but instead, there are pictures of him with this, this –“ Rafa couldn’t finish the sentence. Wow, he’s said a lot, the words just rushing out of him. That’s more than he’s said in the whole past week probably.

He was starting to feel an emotion that was rarely present in him but now it was slowly burning him up, staring in the pit of his stomach and spreading slowly everywhere.

“This slut.” Rafa spat the word out, a word he has never used before, but he was angry, incredibly angry and therefore he had every right to say as many bad words as he wanted.

“Oh, Rafa,” Miguel said softly, throwing an arm around Rafa’s shoulders. “I think there’s a lot of emotions running through you right now. I think you should calm down, wait a little bit and then look at the photo again. Maybe you will see something different then. And perhaps he went to Bern with his family, having something to do there?”

What Miguel had said actually made sense. Bern had a better hospital, perhaps they have had to take Mirka there, but somehow that didn’t look right. And who was the man in the picture anyways? He wanted answers and he wanted them now and he won’t take no for an answer. He hasn’t forced Roger into speaking, afraid of pushing too far, but he’ll do it now, because this had gone too far on its own. Either Roger was lying to him or there was something seriously more wrong with Mirka than they thought.

He would forgive Roger for not telling him this, he supposed he would feel afraid and shocked, or maybe they just didn’t have the time, but he couldn’t understand why on Earth would Roger lie to him about being in an entirely different place.

“I will ask him,” Rafa replied, coldly, anger slowly slipping away, but leaving annoyance in its wake.

He reached for his phone, ready to clear this out. But right as he unlocked it, it started ringing with an incoming call. Rafa might have expected Roger, but he definitely did not expect to see Mirka’s face flashing from the imagine of her icon and her name written underneath.

He raised his eyebrows, looked at Miguel, who scooted closer to him and then with a wildly beating heart, picked up.

“Hola,” he greeted, slowly and cautiously. He had to be gentle, right? He was never completely sure how to act with ill people, especially not when he had such a complicated relationship with them.

“Rafa? Oh, my God, I finally got you, Jesus, I’ve been calling you for over two days and you’d never pick up.”

“Qué?” He hasn’t received any calls or messages he wouldn’t know about. Despite not being a big fan of electronics, he checked his phone frequently and he definitely had no unanswered calls or messages. “What, I’m sorry, but I didn’t get calls. I don’t understand, why you called me?” He was confused as fuck and it clearly showed on his English.

“What? I called you at least four times every day.” Rafa frowned.

“I didn’t get them, I promise, I check… What is going on, Mirka, are you okay? Roger? Why are you calling?”

“It’s about Roger, Rafa,” she said. His ears perked up immediately and he sat up straighter, a thousand of possibilities running though his mind.

“What? Is he alright?” In the mix of everything that he thought of there wasn’t what she said next.

“I wanted to ask you that,” she said, sounding confused, “he hasn’t been returning my calls or messages for five days.”


	16. Maybe if We Face up to This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don't know if I'll be able to update weekly until the end of May, because the school's killing me -.-  
> Please, bear with me while I'll also try to finish like 1574359 other one shots that I'm currently writing :)  
> Thank you for reading and enjoy in this short chapter :)

Roger’s phone had been ringing nonstop until the moment he turned it off. Mirka and Rafa were calling him for the whole day and he wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what that meant. He’s been sitting on the floor with his head in his hands ever since he realized what it meant.

He wasn’t sure what was happening to him at the moment. There wasn’t any space for emotions, he was mostly feeling numb. He supposed it would sink in in time and a mental break down would follow.

God, how had he let this happen? His mind took him back to the moment he had told that lie. He would give anything to take it back. How had he been so naïve that he thought for a minute he could run this plan through? He leaned his head on top of his knees. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t think about how this will destroy the relationship with Rafa and the one with Mirka who he could always rely on. That too will probably come to him in time.

He sat there for hours, completely numb to everything, until his tailbone started hurting to the point he finally stood up with a loud groan, his joints moving with loud noises. He needed to do something. He knew Rafa was going to come flying into Bern the first chance he got if Roger wouldn’t pick up the phone soon. But there was no way he could handle hearing his voice now.

It took him another half an hour before he finally gathered enough courage to pick up the phone and turn it on. It was immediately flooded with tens of messages and missed calls. He checked Rafa’s message first, almost too afraid to open the conversation. He did it with his eyes closed and then slowly reluctantly opened them.

There were more than thirty of them. They went from pissed to slightly angry to worried and sad and Roger immediately felt bad. Rafa shouldn’t worry for him, he didn’t deserve it.

**Roger, please, call me back. Or call Mirka. Are you okay? Please, let me know what’s going on, we need to talk.**

He sighed and scrolled up the conversation. Jesus, what had he done?

**ROGER WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WHY AREN’T YOU PICKING UP THE PHONE CALL ME BACK YOU PEACE OF SHIT**

Roger chuckled. Rafa had misspelled piece again. He didn’t know if he could ever speak to Rafa again, let alone look at him. He didn’t call him back, he couldn’t, but Rafa shouldn’t worry about him, it wasn’t fair, he owed him a text. He owed him a lot more than a text, but he couldn’t. Not now, not yet, maybe not ever.

**I’m fine, don’t worry about me, I’m sorry.**

He sent it with a heavy feeling in his gut, his body responding with a feeling of nausea, not being able to keep up with his brain. He found himself thinking what went wrong with his plan, he concluded he shouldn’t have ignored Mirka. She wouldn’t have called Rafa then.

The text turned to ‘read’ immediately and Roger’s heart clenched. He wasn’t expecting an answer and when three little dots appeared on Rafa’s side of the conversation he was filled with dread. He didn’t want to see Rafa’s response, but it was in his phone a second later, Rafa probably knowing exactly what was going through his head.

 **NOT WORRY ABOUT YOU? YOU ARE CRAZY ROGER YOU OWE ME A HUGE EXPLANATION I WANT YOU** **ON YOUR NEXT PLANE**

Rafa’s anger was radiating through his text, but Roger could only think about the last part of the message. Rafa wanted to see him? How could he possibly still want to see him after this. He did owe him an explanation that was completely true, although Roger wasn’t sure he even had one, what on earth could explain such a twisted lie? Rafa called him again but he declined the call immediately, without even giving himself a second to think.

Rafa’s text came in the next moment.

**STOP IGNORING ME**

**I’m sorry, Rafa, I can’t come home, not now, I need time, I’m so sorry**

There was another call, but Roger declined that one too. Rafa’s voice would break him completely. Rafa’s texts changed after that, they weren’t capitalised anymore, and sadness oozed out of them to the point where Roger felt it like a stab deep into his chest.

**I don’t care about sorry, please come home, we will talk**

Rafa didn’t understand. He couldn’t talk to him. He could crawl under the bed and stay there forever just letting guilt and shame eat him all up.

**I’m sorry**

He turned his phone back off. Rafa needed to know he was okay and not worry about him, but he knew the Spaniard well enough that he knew this would eat him up. Which added even more to the guilt he was feeling. Rafa didn’t deserve any of this, especially not worrying about him. He should be carefree and happy. With a pained thought Roger begged someone – anyone that Rafa wasn’t alone. He knew what loneliness could do to the younger man. He knew and still he was here, miles away and not making sure Rafa was okay. God, he was horrible.

The emotions were catching up with him now. Guilt that has been pressing down on him for days, worry, shame, sadness, loneliness, anger, all of this came at once and he couldn’t do anything but let it happen, burying his face into the pillow as unstoppable tears filled his eyes and then he did something he hadn’t done in years. He cried his eyes out until everything from his chest and stomach to his head was hurting, his throat feeling tight, his nose running, and he couldn’t fucking stop. It was just too much and there was no way to stop something as powerful as that.

If only he knew Rafa was doing just the same in the same moment on their bad miles away, curled up in the same exact position as he, feeling just as horrible.


	17. We Can Make it Through This

Rafa wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed when Miguel finally knocked on the door of the bedroom. He just kinda lost it after Roger’s last message, running to the bedroom where he curled up on the bed, burying his face into Roger’s pillow and crying.

He didn’t give any answer to Miguel, unable to speak, but he still hoped Miguel would come inside, he hated being alone. Miguel knew him well enough to know that and after a moment of hesitation he slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

Miguel wasn’t very good at consoling sad people, but he was a great friend and he tried his best. He slowly neared, the bed, kneeling down beside it, putting a hand on Rafa’s warm, sweaty back. Rafa turned his head towards him, his eyes red and puffy, cheeks wet with tears.

“I’m worried,” he gasped. This was the second time he was crying in just a few hours and his head was starting to hurt. The hours between Mirka’s call and Roger’s first message blended into one long period of pain and worries. He couldn’t think about the fact that Roger had lied to him, he would deal with that later, he was so fucking worried, because Roger never acted like that, never, and he couldn’t think of a single reason why Roger would do whatever he did.

After Mirka had told him Roger hadn’t been returning her calls, he briefly wondered why he didn’t get any of Mirka’s calls or messages, before he told her he was worried about him. It was the first thing on his mind right after the news had sunk in. He asked her if she could find out where he was staying, if she could get there, before he even sent the first message to the older man. A horrible sense of panic was the first emotion after Mirka’s call even before anger and he hoped Mirka would get there as soon as possible.

Roger had been alone for five days. Suddenly the man Rafa had seen in that picture didn’t seem as horrible anymore. He hoped he took at least a little bit care of Roger.

“What happened?” Miguel asked, carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed. It felt wrong to be here in the privacy of Roger and Rafa’s bedroom, being the one to comfort Rafa instead of his husband. He looked around uncomfortably, noting a picture of Roger and Rafa on the nightstand, right beside a tube of cooling gel, a bottle of painkillers and a box of tissues.

Rafa sat up in the bed, crossing his legs, wiping at his eyes. Miguel wordlessly offered him a tissue, which Rafa accepted with a grateful smile.

“I suppose it’s not a secret anymore,” he spoke after he calmed down enough to control his sobs. “I don’t understand it myself, but Roger had told me that Mirka was sick and that he had to go to Basel to take care of the children while she receives her treatment, but it was all a lie. He’s been in Bern and I have no idea what he did there, I don’t even want to know, to be honest.”

Miguel sighed. Rafa was suddenly all too aware of the man’s hand, feeling warm on his calf.

“Is that why you were trying to call him?”

Rafa nodded. The phone was beside him on the bed. Miguel had been mostly wordlessly waiting while Rafa was trying to call Roger, going out to the patio to give Rafa his privacy like he’d been asked to. After Rafa gave up a few minutes later, they watched a repeat of one of the LaLiga matches, but Rafa’s eyes were just staring somewhere into distance. He seemed to be deeply lost in thought. Miguel had nudged him a few times through the match, but Rafa just wouldn’t respond. By then he had figured something was terribly wrong with the Roger situation.

He has asked a few times if Rafa wanted him to leave, but Rafa always shook his head although he offered nothing more than that.

“He said… he said he can’t come home,” Rafa managed to gasp before another set of tears came and he buried his face back into the pillow. Miguel didn’t exactly understand what was going on and couldn’t find the right words. “I’m so angry,” Rafa continued a few seconds later, reaching for another tissue. “And so worried.”

“Just try to calm down a bit. Mirka is going to find him, right?”

Rafa nodded, blowing his nose. “I’m fine,” he said after a moment. “I need to wash my face, Jesus Christ. I’m okay, don’t worry.”

He stood up and went to the bathroom, where he washed his tears away and tried to clear his mind a bit. It had all happened way too quickly, and his brain had trouble keeping up. After he dried off he went back into the bedroom, which was now empty. He heard Miguel’s footsteps down the stairs and he followed him after reaching for his phone to check it once more. He didn’t reply to Roger’s last message and he won’t bother to. He had tried to call him once right after and it seemed that Roger’s phone was turned off again.

The only thing he could do now was to wait for Mirka’s call or to go to Bern himself. But after a moment of thinking he realised that that wouldn’t be easy for him. He was supposed to be mad at Roger after all. And he was. Their relationship was based on honesty and Roger just threw it away. And that wasn’t all. He still didn’t know what Roger had been doing in Bern. And he was completely serious when he told Miguel he doesn’t want to know. He wasn’t sure he could handle the truth.

When he sat down on the couch with a little huff, Miguel came from the kitchen holding a glass in his hand with a small smile on his face. His features were laced with worry and Rafa suddenly felt terribly guilty that he hadn’t let Miguel leave earlier. He shouldn’t have made him a part of this.

“Drink. You need it,” Miguel said, pushing a glass into Rafa’s hand, before sitting down beside him. Rafa cautiously smelled the yellow liquid in his glass before his face cleared into a weak smile.

“Pina Colada?” he asked.

Miguel shrugged. “You have so many drinks and most of them are unused.”

Rafa took a drink, almost surprised at how good it was. He hadn’t had a cocktail in months probably. “Yes, Roger had a sudden whim to impress everybody who came here with cocktails. It lasted for about a week before he lost all interest.” He suddenly chuckled, even though it was a bit dark, when he remembered how he almost ran to the store to get everything Roger wanted.

He sipped eagerly on his cocktail, cringing at every sip when the taste of alcohol came through. It didn’t bother him as much as usually, obviously because of the situation, but he had a feeling there was way more white rum than in the recipe. He couldn’t find it in himself to care though.

“Maybe you should try,” Miguel said. “If you make cocktails half as good as you cook, you probably wouldn’t want to stop.”

Rafa laughed. “I think you are exaggerating. My cooking is not so good. And I have never made a cocktail in my entire life.”

That almost threw Miguel off the couch. “What? Never?”

“No,” Rafa replied, still laughing. It didn’t sound like his usual soft laughter, somewhat forced, like he did find the situation funny but just couldn’t find it in himself to laugh genuinely. “I don’t drink, and I never offered anyone cocktails, that was Roger. Oh, and also, make me another one.” He pushed the glass back towards Miguel, who obediently walked back into the kitchen, murmuring something about Rafa’s words.

“Do you want more rum?” he yelled from the kitchen.

“Yes,” Rafa yelled back immediately, leaning his head back against the soft cushions. “Hey, Miguel?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s go fishing!”

“What, now?”

“Yes.” Rafa pushed himself up from the couch and went into the kitchen. It took him only a few seconds before he drank the second glass.

“But I don’t have anything with me,” Miguel replied. He was staring to feel a bit sorry for putting so much rum into Rafa’s drink.

“I’ll let you borrow, no problem. Roger’s equipment is mostly unused anyways, he doesn’t like fishing.” He suddenly felt a stabbing kind of pain in his chest. He’d bought the equipment for Roger’s birthday and the Swiss had probably only used it once or twice.

His fingers wrapped around Miguel’s wrist tightly and he dragged Miguel towards the front door without a second thought.


	18. Closer, Maybe We'll Be Closer

It’s been twelve days. Rafa knew that number clearly, it’s been a number of days he hasn’t slept well, hasn’t eaten well, hasn’t felt well and nothing was right.

Mirka’s call came on the same days all of this started. She said Roger was drunk, that he wouldn’t let her book him a flight home, that he wanted to be left alone. Mirka didn’t know what to do, so she ended up booking a room on the same floor as Roger’s, promising Rafa she would take care of Roger and sent him home as soon as Roger agreed. It’s been twelve days and Roger still didn’t agree.

Rafa was slowly losing the will to live. Mirka had told him it would be better if he didn’t come to Bern and Rafa agreed completely. He didn’t want to go to Bern. At first, he’d been angry, and he tried to mask it with faked happiness. Miguel saw right through him though, so Rafa stopped trying after a few days. And then he just spent his days sitting on the couch, training the kids – that was the only thing he couldn’t run away from – eating, sleeping, crying and repeating the process. His knees were hurting like never before, feeling just as broken as his heart.

Roger and he could fix that if they wanted to, so why wasn’t Roger trying? The thought of Roger getting tired of him hurt far more than his swollen knees.

Rafa’s friends came over every day, trying everything to cheer him up and Rafa was really thankful that he had company, yet he couldn’t show it with more than a weak smile. They brought him food so he didn’t have to cook, and he was truly grateful but he couldn’t eat more than just a few bites. They dragged him to the beach with him but even the comforting sea that he used to love couldn’t get him in a better mood. And since he couldn’t really swim either he just spent his time sitting on the shore, letting cold water touch his legs teasingly. He could relax there, but thoughts of Roger still haunted him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the situation, not for one second and he was sure that his brain must have been getting more exercise than ever before. He couldn’t get one moment of peace. And the thinking didn’t even help him it just brought him more and more down until he was basically on the floor and saw no reason to stand up.

He often wondered it that was the end. If something so beautiful of more than thirteen years ended with one single lie. The thought itself hurt more than the fact Roger lied to him. One lie he could forgive, if only Roger came back.

He was still so worried for Roger, even through the mixed anger, pain and sadness. Roger had never waited so long to come back, had something happened to him? He shook the thought away every single time though. Mirka was there and she would inform him if she thought something bad happened. Rafa was so afraid of that call coming.

It was late, half past eleven and Rafa was still just sitting on the couch. When the watch on his wrist beeped he winced as if woken from deep thinking. He looked at the watch, his stomach clenching. He’d been sitting here from more than two hours. He shook his head slowly. In just two weeks he became so absent-minded, so stressed that he forgot about the simplest tasks like showering, preparing himself dinner, cleaning.

He didn’t want to do anything but sit on the couch and wait for Roger to come back. He had to come back, right? He always did. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. He stood up and stiffly walked up the stairs. He must have had his legs in a strange position, his knees were pulsing with pain again. He didn’t remember eating anything, he wasn’t sure he’d even had breakfast, but he wasn’t hungry. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could keep anything down. He’d been feeling incredibly nauseous for the past few days. He didn’t know why.

His family didn’t yet know what was going on. Rafa just couldn’t bring himself to tell them, he knew they would just worry or even worse, pity him, because from the moment Roger and he got married they were saying that this wouldn’t work. They were right and Rafa couldn’t stand the ‘I told you so’ looks. He got undressed once he came to the bedroom, having to mentally force himself to go brush his teeth, because he definitely had no energy to actually shower, and then he climbed under the sheets. They were pleasantly cold against his overheated skin. He checked his phone, but there was nothing from Roger, of course.

With the last thought he could manage he realised that his knees were hurting so much that he usually wouldn’t be able to sleep through that. But he didn’t deserve the painkillers, they were one of the reasons Roger was so far away at the moment anyways, and that thought lulled him off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I know this chapter was short but it's just kinda a bridge connecting the next few chapter with the previous one :)


	19. Stronger Than We Were Before

When Rafa woke up, he heard the sounds from the kitchen downstairs. He was so tired. Miguel must have already been there, preparing him breakfast like every day for the past few weeks. God, what had he done to deserve such a great friend? It got harder getting up each day, but Miguel being there somehow made it easier. After a month he could finally smile again.

Miguel knocked on his bedroom door just a few minutes later. Rafa put a smile on his face and sat up in the bed. His knees screamed in protest. He should go to the doctor, but he’d been putting it off, god knows why. Miguel was an excellent cook, except when it came to his smoothies, and he did everything he could to make Rafa at least a little bit happy and present a different meal each morning. He didn’t disappoint. He made a French toast and Rafa strongly suspected there was chocolate inside by the pleasant smell filling the room. Miguel made eating a bit easier.

“Good morning,” Miguel greeted him and Rafa offered him another smile. This one wasn’t completely fake either. Miguel passed him the plate, giving him such a wide and proud smile that Rafa had to laugh.

“Morning,” he greeted back. “Thank you, that smells amazing.” He dug into his breakfast. Roger never allowed him to take food into their bed except when he was sick and couldn’t go down to eat. He could completely ignore that rule now that this bed was all his and his alone. He didn’t even care if he got the sheets dirty, he had enough of them anyways.

“I put Nutella inside. And strawberries.” Miguel looked so happy with himself that Rafa felt a stab of something deep inside his belly. He tried to ignore it and moaned happily at the taste that assaulted his taste buds.

“God, it’s good,” he said with his mouth full, earning a wide grin from Miguel. If he smiled wide enough a dimple appeared in his cheek and Rafa wondered why he hadn’t noticed that before. “Do you want some?” he asked and offered him a fork.

“Just because you’re offering,” Miguel laughed and Rafa pushed the fork into his mouth. “There’s more downstairs,” he said after swallowing and stood up from the edge of the bed.

“Yes, I’m coming,” Rafa mumbled, already halfway through his plate. Miguel laughed again before leaving the bedroom. Rafa heard his footsteps as he went back downstairs. For the first time in a month he actually wanted to get up from the bed, even if it was just for food.

He sat the plate on the nightstand after he was done and stood up, pulling a pair of shorts and a T-shirt with his logo from the closet, quickly putting them on. He went into the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth thoroughly. After he shaved and finally completely woke up, he ran his hand through his hair, trying to make them look somewhat normal. There were less and less of them every day, but they were just as untameable as before. He put on a pair of socks and carried the plate downstairs. He could still hear Miguel in the kitchen.

“That was quick,” Miguel said. He was referring to how hard it was to get Rafa out of bed for the past few days. He also seemed a bit better. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t so prominent anymore, there was more colour in his cheeks, but it was still clearly visible that he’d lost wait which wasn’t even weird. He was barely able to eat anything during the last month which was also the reason for Miguel to do everything he could to make Rafa eat even if he had to guilt trip him, which worked best.

“Yes, I’m still hungry,” Rafa replied, sitting down on the bar stool at the kitchen aisle. Miguel smiled. That was more life than what Rafa had shown in the last month and it finally looked like he was slowly starting to get over the worries, the doubts, the negative thoughts, everything that came with Roger leaving. But one thing didn’t change. Rafa was still waiting for Roger to come home. He knew he wouldn’t even gather enough anger to actually stay mad at him. He would welcome him with open arms even if Roger offered no apology and no explanation. It was just who Rafa was, and it was a reason for Miguel to worry.

“What do you want to do today?” Miguel asked, after serving him a second round of French toast.

“I don’t know,” Rafa replied. “I have a training session with the kids in the afternoon, but otherwise I was thinking of just staying here… Maybe watching a movie or read, I don’t know,” he repeated. Miguel frowned. Slow steps, he reminded himself. Rafa was smiling and he seemed to have slept well and that was more than what he could ask for.

“Oh, you need to go out, Rafa,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite side of the kitchen isle. “I swear you’re starting to go pale,” he half-joked. Rafa was still beautifully tanned, but he did become a shade lighter since starting to refuse going out of the house except when he had to because of the training sessions.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” he asked. He looked like he didn’t really want to go, but even Rafa himself knew that staying in the house for that long wouldn’t do him any good. Roger had the key after all. If he wanted to come home, Rafa not being there could not stop him from getting inside. He kept telling himself that to keep the guilt that was rising in him at bay.

“Sure,” Miguel brightened up. He wasn’t expecting Rafa to want to go anywhere let alone suggest something. But he was happy that something was finally changing.

Half an hour later, when they finished the French toast, Rafa went upstairs to tape his knees and get a beach bag, putting four pairs of swimming trunks inside, two for himself and two for Miguel. He stopped in the bathroom on the way downstairs and grabbed two towels. Miguel was sitting on the couch, playing with his phone. His eyes immediately settled on Rafa’s knees.

“Do they hurt?” he asked. Rafa shrugged. He destroyed a relationship because of whining about his knees, he won’t do the same mistake again and ruin the most valuable friendship he had. They did hurt but it was nothing a few pills couldn’t numb.

As strange as it sounded besides missing Roger he also missed his family. He didn’t want them to stick their noses into their business and after a month of Roger being away they still didn’t know. Rafa went to the house where his mother lived with his sister and her boyfriend only once, when she called him and asked him to come get food and she wouldn’t let him hang up until he promised to come. And he stopped by his father’s place once on his way from the academy. Other than that, he just tried so desperately to make every phone call and every message as normal as it could possibly be. When his cousins started asking if they could come he turned them down every time, saying he didn’t feel well, or that his knees or head or something hurt, which he rarely did before. But he just didn’t want more people involved in this. Miguel, Carlos and a few other friends were more than enough, he didn’t need anybody else pitying him.

He missed hanging with his family though. He missed everyone from his parents to the smallest cousins he had. But he didn’t feel strong enough to be able to be in their presence without breaking down. Not when everything reminded him of Roger so clearly.

He told Miguel to carry the bag into the car, while he went to the kitchen and filled two water bottles with water. When he heard Miguel in the garage, he took the bottle of painkillers and shook three into his palm. These should be enough for at least until they came back. He swallowed them with a glass of water before quickly following Miguel to the car.


	20. Make This Something More

The beach was so pretty, nicer than ever. The sky was completely blue without a single cloud and the wind was blowing just hard enough that it wasn’t unbearably hot. Rafa wished more than anything that he could feel like that on the inside. Despite everything they were doing, what he was doing, watching films, reading books, walking, training, no matter what, Roger was always on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about what the Swiss was doing at the moment, was he okay, was he safe, was he happy, was he sad? He couldn’t help wondering if Roger felt just as bad as he, or was he finally happy now, that he was away from Rafa?

Rafa knew he would wait for Roger to come back for the rest of his life even if he never did. But he couldn’t help asking himself what would his life look like like that? Would he ever be able to smile again just because life was beautiful and with no other reason? Life without Roger was not beautiful and that was a fact.

They found a quiet place in the shade of a tree that was all curled up and barely alive because of the draught. It still provided enough space for two mats and with a small sigh Rafa lay down on it. Miguel stared at him, his eyes moving over his body.

“You’re not coming into the water?” he asked. Rafa looked to the sea just a few meters away. It was calm and a beautiful light colour and he missed it, but he just… didn’t feel anything. Miguel was still looking at him hopefully and with another sigh Rafa nodded and put the book he’d already taken out of the bag back inside. Miguel smiled widely and offered him his hand. Rafa wordlessly took it and let himself be pulled up. Something inside of him was happy that he could at least satisfy one person.

Miguel didn’t let go of his hand. Rafa noticed, and as strange as it was, he didn’t mind it. Miguel’s palm was cold and not one bit sweaty which was weird because his own was already sticky from sweat. On the other hand, he’d always been known to perspire way too much so perhaps it wasn’t that weird not to sweat in those conditions. Once again, he found himself overthinking. Why was it so hard to shut his stupid brain down?

The cold sea felt amazing, under his feet at first, in between his toes, around his swollen knees and then he dived under the surface, opening his mouth to feel the burning salt on his tongue and God, he missed this so much. Despite living so close to the sea and going to the beach quite often, he hadn’t actually gone swimming in a long time. There were more reasons, one of them being his knees and then the fact Roger preferred the swimming pool and he didn’t like going to the beach alone and now that Roger wasn’t here, the sea just reminded him of him more.

Resurfacing, he took a deep breath of fresh salty air, shook his head to get the water out of his eyes, pushed his hair off his forehead. He smiled and swam in deeper, Miguel following him.

He could feel Miguel beside him, he could swim faster than Rafa and had easily caught him. Their sides pressed together unintentionally and Rafa drew a sharp breath. He hadn’t felt another body besides his for more than a month, since the day Roger left. The memory of their last night was still fresh, but it was slowly starting to slip his mind, especially the details.

“Sorry,” Miguel said, thinking he had scared him, but Rafa suddenly couldn’t talk. They were still pressed close together and suddenly Miguel’s hand was on the small of his back. It was big and cold in the water and felt so much like Roger’s that Rafa drew in a shuddering breath, goose bumps spreading all over his skin.

“No… It’s okay,” Rafa murmured after he finally found the ability to speak again. Miguel was staring at him again, and Rafa realised he did this a lot lately. Suddenly feeling way too self-conscious and just so fucking weird, he looked away. Miguel brought his hand up and touched his face. Rafa looked around, but there wasn’t anyone anywhere close to them. They were just deep enough in the water that they could stand with the water at their necks and Rafa felt the muscles in his legs trembling from everything that was going on at the same time.

In that moment he somehow knew what was going to happen and he didn’t hate the thought. He immediately felt guilty for that, but a small part of his heart was telling him that he deserved something good too even if his brain would never believe that.

Miguel’s touch was gentle. His fingertips ran over Rafa’s cheekbones, his nose, his prominent jaw, his eyelids and finally settled on his lips. Without truly knowing what he was doing, Rafa opened his lips, his tongue darting out to touch the tips of Miguel’s fingers. Miguel’s blue eyes darkened, and he pulled Rafa closer.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, what the fuck is wrong with him, how-“

Rafa kissed him. Partly because he needed him to shut up. He couldn’t talk about Roger now, not without risking breaking down. But partly because he wanted to. One of his hands stayed on Rafa’s face, the other one travelled from the small of his back to his ass and Rafa moaned encouragingly, pressing his hips forward. The kiss was sweet and gentle at first, but it turned absolutely filthy in just seconds when Miguel pushed his tongue inside Rafa’s mouth to meet with his own and Rafa could do nothing but helplessly grab the dark hair on the back of Miguel’s head, begging for more with his touch.

And still, all he could think about was Roger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to warn you that the fictional times between the chapters is longer now, so that you won't be confused. :)


	21. That's What Crazy Is

Roger stared at the picture of Rafa on his phone. God, he missed him so much. He reached for his glass and took a long sip from it. The alcohol had lost its taste a long time ago. He didn’t know how long he’d been in that room for. He looked at the date and tried to count the days, but the numbers just weren’t adding up. It had to be more than two months since he’d left for sure. He’d never had to spend so much time away from Rafa before.

He felt like he could cry if he could, but he was all dried up. Mirka had left a long time ago. She stayed for almost a week and he only let her in his room once and that was at the beginning on the day she suddenly showed up. She yelled at Roger for an hour and by then Roger was completely in hysterics, screaming, crying, yelling at her that it wasn’t his fault when they both knew exactly whose fault it was.

She knocked on his door every day until she was here, but he didn’t answer. When she finally gave up and left she promised him she would be back with the police if he didn’t go back to Manacor immediately. It’s been more than a month and there was no sign of her, no sign of the police and what hurt the most, no sign of Rafa. He knew that thinking like that was completely irrational. But he hadn’t done anything rational in more than two months anyways.

He was planning on spending another day alone in that cursed room, lying on the bed and feeling sorry for himself, but then his phone beeped. He hadn’t touched it for days, leaving it plugged in on the floor beside the door, so he wouldn’t be temped to text or call Rafa. Hope blossomed in his chest. Rafa hadn’t written or called him ever since the day when he begged Roger to come home and Roger just ignored him. The mere thought of that day still hurt deep inside his chest.

He reluctantly stood up. He knew how small was the possibility that Rafa had decided to text him, but he still had to check. He swung a little bit. He’d mostly been drunk for the past few weeks so it almost didn’t make a difference anymore.

Of course, the message wasn’t from Rafa. It was from Mirka and it managed to worsen his already bad mood.

**Roger, the kids want to see you, we’ll be there at three.**

Roger resisted the urge to throw his phone at the wall. God, has she told the kids about what he had done? How will he ever be able to live after that? He panicked, and he needed more than a few minutes to get himself together and start breathing normally again. He was so ashamed he could crawl into a hole and stay there for the rest of his life.

He couldn’t reply.

His brain needed time until he realised that he wasn’t one bit presentable to see his kids. He groaned and walked into the bathroom. It had been way too long since he had his last shower. And he hadn’t shaved in days. He quickly hopped under the shower and then shaved. He was almost surprised when he saw his face again. He’d clearly lost some weight because he felt bed calling the room service more than twice a day and even then, he didn’t eat much.

In the period of time he was here he went to visit Elias and his family twice and then he didn’t even pick up his calls anymore. He just had no more energy. He also seemed exhausted, there were dark circles under his eyes and his eyes were unfocused and glassy. Of course, he was still drunk. His hair was messy, and it was obvious that he’d been lying in bed for days, doing nothing useful.

He was thinking about Rafa for a long time, until a point, a few days ago, when he couldn’t even think anymore. And from then on, he didn’t even remember how he’d been spending his days. He didn’t remember anything but lying in bed, watching stupid movies and drinking. He was a definition of a wreck.

After he looked just a little bit like his old self again, he started cleaning the room, hiding the bottles of alcohol, folding the clothes, which were all over even though he didn’t remember changing for the past few days. He decided on putting on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt.

After he was done, he lay back on the bed, trying to ignore the urge to drink in hope of managing to sober up before Mirka arrived with the kids. He started watching TV and his hands were almost shaking with the want to grab the bottle. It was probably in the back of his mind for quite some time that he got addicted, but he only realised it in that moment. It wasn’t as shocking as he would be. The disgust that he’d always felt for alcoholics who ruined their families had completely disappeared. He was one of them now anyways and he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. What was that in addition to everything he’d already done?

Three o’clock came before he could mentally prepare. All the time in the world couldn’t be enough to prepare him to face such shame, but he strongly suspected Mirka would actually call the police if he didn’t open the door and just ignored them, so that was out of option even though it was tempting. But he didn’t want to cause even more drama.

Mirka and the kids arrived at quarter past three. Roger had been walking up and down the room for the past twenty minutes, genuinely worried he would get a heart attack, judging by the way his heart was trying to jump out of his rib cage. It did this a lot lately. When he opened the door, he was met by Mirka’s glare, which he tried to ignore, still hoping she hadn’t told the kids.

He wasn’t lucky of course, like he never was, and he knew that immediately after one look Myla sent to him. It was so full of anger and disgust that Roger’s heart squeezed in pain. Charlene looked exactly like her twin, while the boys weren’t glaring. They just seemed incredibly sad and disappointed what actually hurt even more.

They all squeezed into the room past him, effectively stopping him before he could close the door into the faces which he was completely ready to do.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Myla started screaming a second after Roger had closed and locked the door. “How could you do that to mum? Jesus Christ, how could you do that to Rafa?!”

“I… What?” Roger wasn’t expecting that. He hoped that Rafa wouldn’t come up in that conversation, but everything revolved around him, so it wasn’t really a surprise. He just didn’t expect her to defend Rafa.

Charlene, always reading Myla’s mind, picked it up from there. “And what are you still doing here, dad? Get the fuck over it and go home!”

Roger would usually remind her about the language, but he knew that would earn him an even bigger glare. “I don’t want to,” he said again. “And hello to all of you too.”

They didn’t seem amused, least of all Mirka who sat down on the bed and wrinkled her nose in disgust. The boys stood at the door awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable about what their dad had done, but they didn’t say anything.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Mirka spoke, her voice so icy cold that Roger wanted to cry. “And I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you, but Rafa deserves an apology in person and while I wouldn’t be even surprised if he dumped you, you’ll do that even if I have to drag you to Manacor. God, he deserves so much better than you.” Her words were like a knife to Roger’s heart even though she told him nothing he hadn’t known before. It was just a lot more painful hearing it from someone else.

“You’re right,” he spoke after a few seconds. “He does. And that’s exactly why I’ll never go back there.”

Before he even finished the sentence, Myla started screaming. “You’re so fucking selfish. The only reason you’re not going back there is because you’re scared and ashamed of what you’re done, which is completely right, but don’t give us bullshit about wanting Rafa to have someone better. You know well enough that he won’t find anyone new, because he’s waiting for you and he’ll wait until you get back there or until he dies, you’re so stupid!” She was still yelling, each word louder, but were those tears in her yes?

He was feeling too much emotions at once, and he needed to sleep down. He pulled out the chair from under the table. He was feeling slightly dizzy when he sat down and he could feel cold sweat on his neck. He didn’t know what he was more shocked about. The fact that she seem to care about Rafa, or the fact that she knew him so well that everything she’d told him was completely true.

He was crying suddenly, and he couldn’t even remember starting. “You don’t understand,” he sobbed. God, if he hoped of one thing, was that his kids never saw him break down like that. “I can’t go back,” he cried. He tried to supress the sobs, covering his mouth, but he couldn’t stop the tears flowing down his face.

Charlene kneeled down beside him. Even through his tears he could see the guilt on her face. They probably weren’t intending on pushing him that hard, but maybe that was exactly what he needed. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. Roger didn’t know how she could even bear to touch him after finding out about what he was like and he knew he didn’t deserve it.

“I know, dad. I know you feel like that, but you have to go. Believe me, it’s the only right thing to do.”


	22. When It's Broken, You Say There's Nothing to Fix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guysss, this chapter turned out a little weird, so I'm sorry if it's confusing to you or anything..  
> New chapter probably coming during the weekend (depends, because if rafa loses tomorrow i'll spend all weekend crying fml)  
> please, tell me what you think, your opinion really matters to me :)  
> Thank you very much for reading, i love you all :) <3 :D

That wasn’t why Roger went back to Manacor. Even though he knew his family was right and they did everything to change his mind, he was still too big of a coward at the end of the day. He stayed at the hotel for one more week, after promising them he would go back home as soon as possible. They didn’t seem so mad anymore after leaving and Roger felt a shade lighter. But nothing was solved, not yet.

Exactly one week after his family’s visit he got a call from someone he’d expected to call a lot sooner. That’s why he wasn’t even surprised when he saw Maribel’s photo and her name flashing on the screen. He’d expected Rafa would tell his family that Roger left immediately after or at least after he found out about Roger’s lie. But the phone call never came, so Roger strongly suspected that Rafa didn’t tell them and tried to hide it from them. Which only made his heart hurt more.

Rafa’s family loved Rafa so much that there was no way they would calmly watch Roger hurt him without interfering. And he expected at least a phone call. Which came almost three months late.

He didn’t pick up the first time. He tried to block the feeling of guilt which he was able to do easier with every day he spent here. It got easier and easier to ignore the painful feelings inside him. And if he couldn’t do it, at least for some time the alcohol could.

He didn’t pick up the second time either, but then he got the terrible feeling that something was wrong. So, he picked up the third time. His fingers were shaking, his belly squeezing painfully, his heart trying to jump out of his chest. Something bad had happened. And Roger’s feeling was usually never right, except on this day when he would give everything if only he could be wrong.

Maribel was frantic and sounded panicked. She spoke half in Spanish, half English and Roger could only understand that something was wrong and that Rafa was in hospital. Roger thought she was probably crying, because her voice was choked and weird. The other side of the line clicked and that was all the information he got.

Nothing else sobered Roger up like that. He couldn’t even explain the feeling that washed over him when Maribel’s voice told him the news. There was fear, panic, anger, guilt, a mix of everything that was starting to make him so confused that he had no idea what to do with himself. He needed a minute to clear his head enough to grab his phone, because it had fallen from his grasp after Maribel had hung up on him and book the first flight home. His vision was clouding over, and his fingers were shaking. He needed more time than he ever thought he would at a task so simple as that one.

Then he couldn’t think about anything else than getting to Manacor as quickly as possible. He left everything at the hotel, barely remembering to take his wallet and phone. He called the taxi while he ran down the stairs of the hotel. He bumped into someone in the hall, but he didn’t have enough time to look at them, let alone apologize.

He had no idea how he got to the airport. He was there suddenly, his mind completely blank but for one thought that was Rafa. He looked at the screen with departures desperately, looking for the number of his flight. The officers at the security looked weirdly at him. Roger supposed that wasn’t strange, he had completely nothing with him besides his phone and wallet. He barely registered the officer’s words when he told him to have a nice flight. He had to force himself to walk to the waiting area. He would look strange if he ran and he still had to wait for his flight.

He couldn’t sit down. He kept walking up and down between the rows of sits, praying that Rafa was okay. He couldn’t even feel the guilt anymore, it was like all of his emotions disappeared to give way to gnawing worry.

Time passed too slowly and too quickly at once. By the time he was called to the gate cold sweat was running down his neck, he was breathing a little shallowly and tried to call Maribel again and then Rafa’s mum and dad, and even Carlos but nobody picked up. Roger hoped it was because they hated him for what he had done and didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t want to think of other possibilities.

He was slipping in and out of sleep during the flight, shaking with the nerves every time he almost fell asleep. He was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep. He couldn’t do anything from the airplane but the thought of something happening to Rafa while he was sleeping was enough to keep him on the edge of consciousness all the time.

The flight took even longer than usually, but even this time wasn’t enough for Roger to clear all of his messed up thoughts. When the nose of the plane leaned down, starting to land, Roger’s hands started shaking. It wasn’t just the lack of alcohol, which he was used to have cursing through his veins. He was nervous. And with the nerves came another wave of guilt. But he tried to shake it off. He would deal with it immediately after finding out that Rafa was okay. He didn’t even dare going in the opposite direction.

Immediately after landing he tried calling the members of Rafa’s family again and he was really starting to lose hope when nobody picked up. He called a taxi but had no idea which address to tell. He was starting to regret he hadn’t taken his own car, but then again, walking to the parking lot and paying would take time and he wasn’t quite sure he could drive in this state anyways.

 When the taxi driver looked at him impatiently, clearly having better job to do than waiting for someone to pick up Roger’s calls, Roger figured that the Hospital de Manacor was where Rafa was most likely to be. The driver clearly paid no mind to who he was. He only rolled his eyes when Roger told him the address and hit gas before Roger even managed to close the door.

He kept asking the man to drive faster in his bad Spanish, but the driver wasn’t in a hurry to get him anywhere, not speeding over one single limit. Roger was feeling sick and as they got nearer to the hospital, he stopped asking the driver to go faster. He wasn’t sure he could keep the contents of his stomach down if he opened his mouth.

When the taxi stopped in front of the hospital about twenty minutes later Roger was completely pale, sweating even in the cold AC, his hands trembling even more than before. He thanked the driver and quickly sorted through his wallet to pass him some money, giving more than the ride was worth and definitely more than he deserved. Once again, the taxi drove away before the doors were even closed and Roger found it weird how he could be in such a horrible situation and his mind kept noting small details instead of focusing on the main problem. He couldn’t help noticing that the poor flowers in front of the hospital would need more watering and that one of the lights wasn’t working.

It was getting dark outside and the air was a little bit fresher. Trying to calm down his wild heart, Roger took a few deep breaths, before running up the stairs to the main entrance. He already felt tears prickling at his eyes, but he pushed them away. If he started crying, there was no way he could stay mentally able to find Rafa.

The hospital was as usually packed with people. Roger looked around. He saw himself in many people who were loudly and shamelessly crying. He hoped everything would be okay with their loved ones. The main hall was a mess. A lot of babies were crying, voices were everywhere around him and Roger’s world was spinning. He leaned against the wall to breath, his only goal now to find where Rafa was, to confirm that he was okay.

He ran to the information desk. The lady sitting there looked at him strangely for a second, then she smiled and when Roger looked up to face her, her smile fell, something like sorrow settling into her eyes. Roger’s heart sank even lower.

“Hello, is-“

“Mr. Federer,” she cut him off immediately. He couldn’t manage a smile. He sent her desperate questioning looks, but she either didn’t see them or ignored them. She took an awful lot of time to sigh, before she reached for the phone. “I’ll call his doctor. He’ll come pick you up and take you to him.”

Roger nodded thankfully, biting into his bottom lip to stop it from trembling and to push away a new set of tears. The nurse wasn’t any faster with her movements than before and when Roger started impatiently drumming his fingers on the table top, she smiled at him sadly, holding the phone to her ear and waiting for somebody to pick up.

“You’re in no hurry, Mr. Federer. Mr. Nadal is in the operation room and it’ll take some time before the surgery is over.”


	23. And You Pray That Everything Will Be Okay

“You need to calm down, Mr. Federer.”

Rafa’s doctor was leaning over Roger where he was sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall, trying to get some air into his lungs. He didn’t fucking know how to breath. He kept chocking on the air, none of it actually getting into his chest and his vision was starting to go black. Sure hands pushed him down into a lying position, and Roger couldn’t object even if he wanted. His head was pushed back and suddenly breathing got just a little bit easier and he could hear the doctor’s words again.

“-with me. Breath in and out, in again, and out. There you go, deep breaths…”

His vision returned a second later and he could feel blissful cold air filling his lungs again. He felt like he was dying. He panted for a few seconds, trying to catch as much of the cold air as he could, before pushing himself back up into a sitting position. His face was wet in a mix of tears and sweat. He coughed for a few seconds, his throat feeling tight and dry.

“Roger, you didn’t have to work yourself up like that,” he spoke softly and pulled him up on his feet.

Roger needed time to look around himself and for his brain to pick up the pieces of what was happening. It slowly came back to him and with fear gripping him, he focused on Rafa’s doctor.

“Rafa… What? What is happening? He’s okay, right? Please, tell me he’s okay.”

The doctor opened his mouth to reply, but a female voice cut him off immediately.

“ _Dios mio_ , Roger, thank God you are here.” Maribel threw herself at him and reluctantly, but gladly he hugged her. She seemed more collected and calm, but she was still trembling slightly and there were still tear tracks on her cheeks. “I’m sorry I called you like that, it was before I knew what was happening. I shouldn’t have sounded so panicked, I didn’t know you were in Switzerland. Miguel called me, and he honestly made it sound like Rafa was dying. I called you right after and I was so scared, I’m sorry I hung up on you like that and you didn’t need to come home for that. It’s –“ She was speaking into his neck, her arms tightening around him until Roger was barely breathing with the force of her hug.

Roger cut off her rambling. “No, no, don’t apologise. Can somebody please tell me what happened to Rafa, please?” Maribel made it sound like it was nothing urgent and relief was spreading around him but Rafa was still in the surgery room and he was surely there for a reason.

Maribel made a step away, out of Roger’s hug and bit her lip. She looked at the doctor helplessly. The doctor smiled gently, patting Roger’s shoulder and motioning to the chairs. Roger felt his legs shaking and was thankful that he could sit down in the waiting room. He knew Rafa’s doctor well. They all had a great relationship and they were almost kind of friends and he always knew how to professionally reduce Rafa’s or Roger’s anxiety.

“Look, Roger. Rafa’s life is not in danger. When his friend called Maribel, I knew he would just cause too much panic.” Roger looked at Maribel, who wouldn’t sit down, walking up and down the corridor and nibbling on her perfectly manicured nails. Roger realised that she was more shaken up because of Miguel’s call than of the situation itself. “Rafa fell down the stairs. I don’t know what he was doing but I’ll make sure to ask him once he’s awake. And that usually wouldn’t end up like this, but his knees just… they didn’t hold him. I’ll be honest with you, Roger. He’s had a patellar fracture which means of his kneecaps shattered and that won’t heal easily, but what’s maybe good in this situation is that the surgeon’s working on his tendons, which is why this procedure is taking so long, but maybe if his kneecap heals like it’s supposed to, he’ll be able to live a little bit more pain-free. You should have heard this before going into that panic attack, it definitely didn’t help you.”

Roger relaxed against the seat with a small sigh, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. _Jesus fucking Christ_. Sweat was dripping down his face and he wiped it off with his T-shirt. Maribel finally sat down beside him.

“He’s gonna need a lot of rehab and physio but at least he’s used to that. And also, Roger,” the doctor said, and Roger opened his tired eyes, “I know that Rafa has been keeping his pain to himself. I know he doesn’t want to bother people with his problems, but the knees are so sensitive, and they do need an immediate treatment. And I’m here to help him. He needs to know that if we want this to heal properly, okay?”

Roger nodded. He knew this too. Rafa really hated being at the doctor constantly and not just because of himself and the pain that came with it, but also because he felt bad he was stealing time that according to him a lot of people needed more. Rafa was such a selfless and beautiful person that Roger felt the tears again. He looked around. The doctor gave him a smile, before he excused himself and Maribel was staring straight at the opposite wall, her leg bouncing nervously. Nobody was watching him, and Roger could finally, after hours of stress, cry.

Maribel immediately noticed the shaking of his shoulders, heard his quite sobs which he was trying to keep from escaping. He looked at him and her eyes widened at the sight of his tears.

“No, no, Roger, don’t cry,” she immediately said, putting an arm around his neck and hugging him. Roger pressed his hands against his face. She surely didn’t know yet. Once she finds out, she won’t ever want to be anywhere near him again. “Rafa’s gonna be okay, don’t cry, he’s okay.”

“Maribel, I did a horrible thing,” he sobbed into his hands and in response Maribel only hugged him tighter. He didn’t deserve that. But he couldn’t bring himself to push the comforting warmth away. She made it a little bit easier to collect his thoughts.

Like three months ago, Roger felt the need to run away. _But what are you doing here, then? Why did you come all this way, scared out of your mind, leaving everything at the hotel just to get to your husband in the shortest possible time? Why are you here if you don’t even care?_ His mind raced, his children’s words, Mirka’s words echoing in his ears. _How could you do that to Rafa? He deserves an apology in person._ His girls were right. They might have disliked Rafa for breaking up their family and Roger got that, but there was a part in them that remembered the fun they used to have with him and that part still loved him. Why else would they defend him like that? Everybody around him was right, but Roger wouldn’t listen to them. He hated himself for it.

He would do at least one thing right. He would stop drinking. Even through all the panic and fear he felt the need to drink, especially now when the adrenaline has passed. He wouldn’t become a person he despised. Not more than he already was. And he would apologize to Rafa. It didn’t matter if Rafa rejected his apology or asked for divorce. Roger would give him anything he wanted. It was the least he could do. The thought pained him, but Rafa deserved to be happy.

And if, maybe, just maybe, the Spaniard decided he needed him, to help him make it through the recovery, to make sure his knees got better, to be there for him for every check up and every single step of the way, Roger would swallow his shame and pride, he would kiss the very ground Rafa walked on and never left his side again.

He just needed to find a good way to apologise.


	24. Don't Look Back

 

Rafa blinked against the harsh light when he opened his eyes. He felt a little drowsy like he was deep under water and it was hard to focus. He found it hard to put a finger on where he was, he didn’t recognise the room.

A beeping sound caught his attention. He looked to his left and noticed a machine that was measuring his heart beat. He blinked a few times to clear his eye sight. A person was sitting on a chair beside the bed, their head resting on the mattress close to his hip. Rafa blinked a few times until he was able to recognise who it was. The beeping sound got faster when he realised. _Roger_.

The images slowly started coming back to him. Standing at the top of the stairs, giggling wildly at something Miguel had yelled from the kitchen. Stepping down the first step, stupidly losing one of his slippers, stumbling when he tried to catch it with his foot, and then somehow losing his footing, falling downstairs face-first. He remembered the sharp pain that shot through his legs, his own scream was still ringing in his ears and then it all got a little bit shady. He indistinctively remembered Miguel yelling at someone in a panicked voice, being carried in someone’s warm hands, somebody telling him everything would be okay, and a sharp needle being pushed into his wrist.

It was still there, letting clear liquid from a bag high above into his body drop by drop. He felt no pain and with a shaky hand he reached for the cover, lifting it up to confirm his legs were still there. Both of his knees were either extremely bandaged or very swollen. With a sigh Rafa let the cover drop and closed his eyes again. He’d let his guard down. He always made sure to be careful with stairs, rocks, on the beach, but this time he didn’t. Will he ever be able to step out of bed again? He felt tears prickling his eyes and the heart monitor sped up again.

Rafa bit into his bottom lip. He was strong, he wasn’t going to cry. There was a clock ticking on the wall and it was showing half past two. Considering that it was dark outside Rafa realised it was night, which meant it’s been more than twelve hours since he’s been brought here.

He opened his eyes again and looked down at the curly mess of Roger’s hair. He couldn’t see his face, but he suspected he was asleep. Gently, careful not to wake him up, he placed a shaky hand on top of Roger’s head, gently running his fingers through his hair. It was warm and a little damp like he had sweated a lot in the past few hours. He continued stroking his hair, finding out that it was calming him. He felt tears again and this time he couldn’t stop them. They dripped down his cheeks silently and he felt desperate to feel more of Roger. He ran his hand from his hair down his neck, a light feathery touch and under the back of his shirt. His skin was soft and warm.

Roger was here. A sob came, and he couldn’t stop it, bringing his other hand up to silence it. There was no need to wake Roger up. Despite his best efforts he was still too loud. Or perhaps Roger got disturbed by the hand on his neck, because he suddenly twitched and then raised his head with a groan. Rafa frowned in worry, that position surely couldn’t have been good for Roger’s back.

It took time until Roger’s eyes found Rafa’s face and focused. When he did, his eyes widened, and he jumped in his sit, quickly rubbing against his eyes and doing something like a double take as if to check he actually saw what he thought he saw. Rafa’s heart squeezed painfully at one look he got of Roger’s face. The Swiss’ cheeks were sunken, there was stubble covering his chin which was nothing like him, there were dark circles under his eyes and his eyes shone with sadness.

“Oh, my God, Rafa, you’re awake. How do you feel? Is there any pain? Should I call the nurse?” Roger was already restless in his chair, looking around wildly, having no idea what to do next, but then Rafa placed a hand on top of Roger’s and offered him a soft smile.

“I’m okay,” he spoke. He realised his throat felt raw and dry. Roger immediately noticed his discomfort and passed him a glass of water. “Thank you,” Rafa rasped after taking a few sips. Roger took back the glass and put it back down on the night stand. Awkward silence followed. Their eye contact got too intense and Rafa averted his eyes, looking away. He looked… guilty?

“Rafa, I-“

“Roger,” Rafa immediately cut him off. “I did… I did something bad.” Roger almost snorted. Rafa did something bad? What, forgot to feed Tiger? How could anything ever compare to what Roger had done?

“Rafa, you don’t have to apologise for anything. Look, I know what I did is horrible and completely unforgivable. I will never forgive myself-“

“Can we do that later, please? I don’t wanna fight now.”

“I don’t want to fight either, but I’ve been keeping this inside of me since I left. Today, when Maribel called… Rafa, I was so scared.” The same feeling from before coursed through him and he shivered. Tears filled his eyes and he slowly touched Rafa’s hand. He was ready for the Spaniard to pull it away, but he didn’t. His fingers wrapped around Roger’s and he squeezed lightly. Rafa’s tears that had mostly already stopped running were coming again.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to worry you, Roger.”

Roger couldn’t fucking believe what he was hearing. He burst out laughing. Rafa didn’t even mean that sarcastically, he was genuinely sorry for Roger’s mistakes. Jesus Christ. He pressed his face against the mattress, crying and laughing all at once and he couldn’t breathe. Rafa seemed worried at Roger’s reaction but he patiently waited until Roger calmed down enough to speak again.

“You are impossible, Rafa,” he sobbed. “Can you please be selfish, angry, unkind, anything at least once in your life, please?”

Rafa smiled a little sadly, squeezing Roger’s hand again.

“I don’t think so, no?”

Roger laughed again, but it sounded so painful and stressed that Rafa couldn’t stand it anymore. He touched Roger’s warm wet cheeks, wiping at his tears, before hooking his fingers around his neck and pulling him close. Roger resisted at first, he felt sick just being in the presence of Rafa’s clean, beautiful soul, but Rafa’s hand was too strong. Rafa brought his head to rest against his chest, hugging him as best as he could with all the cords sticking out of him, whispering to him in soft Spanish. Roger cried, and he felt as if the tears would never stop. Rafa’s heart was beating strong and loud inside his chest and the thought that this heart could have been stopped today brought a dreadful cold to the core of Roger’s body.

Rafa was crying too, but he was holding himself together better than Roger was. His chin was trembling, and his tears were wetting Roger’s hair, but there was a beautiful emotion spreading through his chest. One that he hadn’t felt in way too long. Not as real and pure as that. It was happiness.


	25. But If We Don't Look Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, Rafa won. Rafa actually literally won his eleventh RG title. Seventeen grand slams. Oh my God. I can't even say how nervous I was during the match I pretty much cried the whole time, especially when his arm cramped in the third. And then people on twitter started saying he was taking pain killers and I was pretty much ready to jump of the cliff, and he said to his team that he couldn't move his hand, but thank God it was just a cramp, which IS one of the worst pains ever, but at least it doesn't last, and the pill he took was a salt pill to replace all the minerals he had sweated out.  
> I am so endlessly proud of him, I love him so much, let's hope for an injury-free continuation of the season.  
> I was thinking about writing a celebratory fic, but right now I'm really set on finishing this. This is chapter 25 and I have four more chapters ready to post which makes it 29 and after that expect about two or maybe three more, it's slowly coming to an end (if my stupid brain doesn't complicate it further, which could potentially happen hehe...)  
> But no.. enjoy this chapter, enjoy in Rafa's victory (he cried and I cried and we all cried), wear a smile everywhere you go and thank you all for reading. :)

Roger woke up the next morning with his back stiff and hurting, but when he blinked his eyes open to find Rafa peacefully sleeping, he decided he would take that kind of pain every day in the exchange for peace Rafa could have.

He stood up, his whole body hurting and moved towards the exit of the room. Rafa was still sleeping, he didn’t want to wake him up and he had a few phone calls to make.

Maribel picked up after the first ring. “Hola, Roger, Buenos días.”

“Good morning,” he replied. “I just wanted to tell you that he woke up during the night, he said he felt okay, but that he couldn’t feel his legs which I guess is normal.”

“Oh, thank you. Look, Roger,” she sighed and somehow Roger already knew what was going to happen, “Rafa never wanted to give us the details, but we know that something’s wrong between you two. He’s gonna need you in the following weeks and it would mean a lot to all of us if you could make things right. We’re coming at ten, okay? After his check up. See you.”

She hung up without further explanation and Roger sighed. She was right. But she didn’t know things were actually more difficult than it seemed. That hug in the middle of the night was nice. It meant Rafa would at least talk to him. But other than that, it solved nothing. They needed to talk properly.

Last night after the surgery was over, Roger was finally allowed to see Rafa. He was taken to his room, where they were just hooking him up to different machines. When he asked what they were, the nurses told him they were to control Rafa’s state after the surgery and that it looked worse than it actually was.

Seeing Rafa for the first time after so long almost broke him, especially seeing him in such a vulnerable state. Rafa had clearly lost weight, he seemed tired, but strangely peaceful because of the medication he’d been given. The nurses told him he wouldn’t wake up for another hour or so and Roger told them he would wait. They said that the visiting hours were long over, but Roger gave them one hard stare and they scurried off, saying he could stay here for as long as he wished.

Rafa’s mum, Maribel and Miguel left soon after, but Roger stayed. He ignored the hard looks Miguel was sending him. It would be completely disrespectful and rude to argue in the presence of Rafa’s family, especially when Rafa was sleeping right beside them. He rested his head against the bed afterwards and accidentally fell asleep.

Roger shook himself out of his past thoughts and went back into the room. Much to his relief, Rafa was awake, staring somewhat sadly straight ahead of him. He had raised the upper part of the bed to be half in a sitting position. He seemed tired, his hair was ruffled and his eyes weren’t completely focused yet.

“Buenos días,” he spoke softly when Roger entered, and he offered him a soft smile. “When is breakfast? I am starving.” Roger had no idea when breakfast was. He was surprised how calm Rafa seemed about everything, but perhaps it was just the medication still in his system.

“I can go ask, or get you something else to eat, there’s a bakery around the corner,” he said in one breath, already half turning around to sprint out of the room.

“No, no, stay.” Rafa turned him down smoothly and patted the edge of his bed. “We need to talk, no?”

Rafa’s eyes were a little sad and Roger’s looked just the same. They looked at each other sadly for a few seconds, before Roger finally sat down in the chair beside the bed and cleared his throat. He gathered the courage to speak.

“When you asked me, what was wrong, and I said Mirka had cancer… it was because I didn’t want to be honest with you and that was something that just simply slipped through my mouth. I wanted to take it back, but I… I just didn’t. A lot of stuff I did have no explanation and no reason. I did it because something in my head is not right and I won’t blame it on anything else.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t want to be honest?” Rafa asked, his voice not giving anything away. At least he didn’t seem angry yet.

“I… Rafa… I still don’t know how to tell you that, because I’m so afraid that I’ll hurt you and I-“

“That is stupid. Nothing could hurt me more than you not coming home after I beg you to, Roger.” Roger inhaled sharply. Rafa’s simple statement was like a knife straight into his chest.

“I…” Roger stayed completely speechless, having no idea how to respond to that. He fucked it up, clearly. Rafa shook his head.

“No matter, tell me.”

“Okay… You… I couldn’t do it, Rafa, I’m sorry, I just kept losing my mind and I literally have no idea how to express this more lightly, but there were moments when I was annoyed by everything you did. And I know the problem here is mine and not yours, but I thought it would pass and I didn’t want to hurt you by telling you that. But it just didn’t pass, it got worse and then it exploded.”

“Stop saying you didn’t want to hurt me. You hurt me. And it’s in the past and you can’t undo it. You can fix the future not the past, Roger. I tell you that many times.”

“Okay,” Roger breathed out, resisting the urge to apologise again. He could keep saying sorry for the rest of his life, every minute of every day and it wouldn’t be enough. “I had a plan after I said that. You weren’t supposed to find out. I redirected all of Mirka’s calls off your phone and did the same with her so you two wouldn’t be able to call each other. But then one day, I think it all got reset and you found out and then, you know…”

“Why didn’t you come home? When I ask you to?” Rafa cut him off. His voice was so full of pain that Roger had to look away.

“I was ashamed. Rafa, I was ready to crawl into a hole and die there, I couldn’t imagine facing you after what I did.”

Rafa seemed to be thinking for a few seconds before he spoke up again. His voice was shaking slightly. “So… You needed to think that I was dying that you come home?” That stung. But it was true. There was no point in looking for an excuse or an explanation. He only nodded, shame clouding his thoughts.

Rafa sighed and bit his lip. He was staring at his hands, joined in his lap. “I… Roger, you did stupid mistakes… Mirka, did you talk to her? She forgive you for saying she is sick?”

“I don’t think she was upset by that. More by what I did to you.”

Rafa shook his head. “No matter, you should apologise to her for that. You use her in a lie.” Rafa was right on that too. Roger felt stupid for not realising that earlier.

“You’re right,” he repeated out loud. “I’ll call her.”

Rafa smiled a little bit, before sorrow clouded his eyes. He suddenly seemed ashamed and Roger could tell his mind was racing all over the place. He could always tell when Rafa was overthinking something. Rafa took a deep, decisive breath before speaking.

“Roger, I think I understand you a little bit. I admit I don’t know what I do in that situation if was me. But you… How you say, you… broke my trust, sí? I don’t really have the right to be angry at you, though. I already said yesterday, I made mistake. More than once. I too have no excuse. I… I sleep with Miguel.”

Rafa dropped it like a bomb but Roger supposed there was no other way to drop it.


	26. We're Only Learning How to Make All Same Mistakes Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!  
> I have to once more warn you that the fictional time between chapters is longer, because I simply cannot afford to describe every minute or this story could never end. You'll feel that especially in the next few chapters so I'm just giving you a heads up.   
> Thank you very much for all the comments on the previous chapter, they really made my day.   
> Thank you for reading, I hope you're still enjoying in Rafa's victory and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. I'll try to update daily, which I can keep going for some time since I have some chapters ready, but after that we'll see. I'm done with school which is a huge relief, but with the summer vacation also the summer jobs start and intensive practice, so I can't promise anything, but I promise I'll do my best.  
> Thanks to every single one of you :*  
> P.S. Any native English readers? A word or two on my English please, because my grades are somehow getting worse and I'm worried :P

His heart actually stopped for a bit, his hope crashed, but he tried to remain calm. Rafa was looking at him with sad, guilty eyes, clearly waiting to see his response and Roger tried to keep himself together.

“Sleep as in…?”

“We fucked, Roger. Almost every night this month.” Rafa’s voice was a little sharp and Roger saw that the Spaniard immediately regretted it. He flinched and fiddled with his trembling fingers. “I love you so much, Roger… I believe you love me too,” he added almost hopefully, and Roger immediately nodded. “But I see no exit out of the situation. We did too many mistakes. I… sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Roger asked, because he found no response to what Rafa had said. He obviously tried to change the subject, because he didn’t want to hear more. He was too afraid to go into it. “Your knees?”

“They hurt now, sí. The pain medication gone. What happened to me?”

“I’ll get your doctor, Rafa,” he said, already standing up, but Rafa immediately grabbed his hand and pulled on it.

“Sit your ass down, we are not finish talking. Tell me what’s with my knees.” Rafa’s eyes were determined and so intense that they caught Roger’s into an eye contact he couldn’t break.

“You fell down the stairs and shattered one of your kneecaps. The doctor said it would take long to heal, but they also did something to your tendons on both knees to help you be more pain free in the future,” Roger said. Rafa was still gripping his hand and when he noticed, he blushed and pulled it away, clearly embarrassed. But when he seemed to realise Roger’s words, his face cleared up a little bit and he smiled slightly.

“Yes? I will be able to walk?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Rafa smiled a little wider, his dimples showing.

“This is good then, no?”

“Yes,” Roger replied. He allowed himself a soft smile at Rafa’s happiness, before he looked away. It was hard to hide the pain and hurt at the thought of Rafa and Miguel. He knew he had no right to complain or be mad, but it still hurt. He sniffled a bit and looked at the pearly white of Rafa’s bedsheet.

“Are you angry, Roger?”

“No, I don’t have-“

“This situation happened because you wasn’t honest with me.” Rafa’s voice was cold and it put him right back into his place.

“Not angry. Hurt, disappointed, jealous, but not angry.”

Rafa let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I feeled lonely and sad. Miguel wanted me to be happy and I let him.”

“I know. That’s why I’m in no place to blame you.”

“He made me happy,” Rafa continued, looking down into his lap where he had his hands joined. “It’s not like with you, but it was… okay. And he take care… He cooks me food and make me go out and take me to the beach.”

His voice quieted until it disappeared. He stared somewhere into the distance, biting on his lip.

“Do you love him?” Roger asked, his voice snapping Rafa out of his thoughts. He was afraid of the answer, but he needed to know. The Spaniard closed his eyes with a quiet sigh. His throat bobbed when he swallowed. When his eyes opened again they settled right on Roger’s.

“I not… I don’t know. I loved him as a friend before and I still do, but now I also… I don’t know how to explain… Maybe, like friendship love and I feel attracted physically and I’m thankful and I don’t know. Maybe is love. But is not- it’s not like with you, Roger, I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Roger spoke, noticing Rafa was getting in distress, his heart starting to beat faster according to the machine. He tried to mask his pain. It hurt that Miguel was one of the reasons they often argued, but back then he knew that Rafa wouldn’t actually do anything with him. He trusted Rafa, but he’d never trusted other guys. And after all that time, he’d brought his fears right on himself. He was the reason Rafa felt the need for that and he understood.

He wanted to ask Rafa what would happen next, what did he want, what should they do, but before he could speak, someone knocked on the door. They both looked towards it and a second later it opened, Rafa’s doctor stepping inside with a nurse following.

He smiled at them and stepped towards the bed. “Good morning! Rafa, how are you feeling?”

Rafa frowned, clearly displeased that Roger and he hadn’t got the chance to finish the conversation. But Roger would stay here and wait for Rafa’s check up to be over and then if Rafa still wanted to, they could talk this out. They could maybe find a solution that could solve at least a little bit of that.

He sat down on a chair beside the window and listened to Rafa and the doctor talking in quick Spanish, which Roger couldn’t understand besides a few words. Roger couldn’t stop looking at Rafa, at his messy hair, beautiful shining eyes framed by long eye lashes and his adorable dimples which appeared when he smiled. They kept talking while the nurse unhooked him from the machines, only leaving the catheter in his wrist. She changed the now empty bag of fluid with another one and switched the tubes.

Rafa frowned, clearly displeased, but the doctor quickly calmed him down with a few quick words even Roger could understand. The liquid was besides the nourishments full of antibodies to help his immune system deal with the surgery and would also help him with the pain. It would be the last bag.

“Roger,” he said and caught his attention. He switched back to English for his benefit. “Rafa can go home in two days, we’ll need to do an x-ray tomorrow and an MRI, but then there’s no other reason for you to stay here if everything goes as planned. We’ll have to make sure the skin doesn’t get infected, so I’ll teach you how to change the bandages, okay?”

Roger nodded without thinking. He didn’t even know if Rafa would let him into their house and that was okay. If he did, he would do everything for him, not just change the bandages.

“What about walk?” Rafa asked immediately and the doctor chuckled.

“I’d recommend bed rest for a week, but you’ll need a physio every day to stop the tendons from shrinking and to keep the full movements of the knee. After a week we can start on walking, but I’d rather you didn’t put any weight on the right leg, okay?”

Rafa shrugged. He seemed happy with the answer. He’d already been, after all, on way longer bed rests than this one. And he was well used to crutches. He smiled, looking from Roger to his doctor and back again.

“Thank you very much,” he finally said. He was looking at the doctor, but Roger had no idea why he had the feeling that Rafa was saying it to both of them.

“It’s no problem, Rafa.” That was all Roger caught before they switched back to rapid Spanish and Roger was left to guess what they were talking about.


	27. I'm Not Calling For the Second Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello ! :)  
> I just wanted to jump in with something real quick. When Rafa's speaking with Carlos or Miguel he's actually speaking Spanish right, but I know very little Spanish and I don't think all of you know Spanish, so it's still written in English, but because I believe Rafa is at least fluent in Spanish it's written in fluent English, he doesn't randomly jump from bad English to great English haha. If I want to express special effect with my small knowledge of Spanish I'll put it into italics.   
> That's all, because I didn't want you to be confused :)  
> Thank you for reading, enjoy this chapter. Every comment is very very appreciated, you really know how to make my days. Love you all. :) :*

“So, what happens next?” Miguel asked. Rafa looked towards the door anxiously. Roger had left about half an hour ago. Rafa told him to go home, take a shower, have breakfast and bring him something to eat. Roger seemed surprised, but happy that Rafa told him that still using the word home, and Rafa didn’t regret it one bit.

Roger had told him he would be right back and Rafa wasn’t quite sure how he would react to seeing Miguel now, after knowing what they’d done. Rafa let out a long, tired sigh.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled quietly, looking anywhere but at Miguel’s sad blue eyes.

“I take it I was only a replacement for you.”

Rafa’s heart hurt with how sad Miguel’s voice was. His head snapped up to look him in the eyes and he shook his head immediately.

“No, not a replacement. It’s true that-“

“Did you tell him?”

“I… Yes. Yes, of course I did.”

“And? Does he hate me now? He’s finally got a reason after all. He spent years thinking I’m secretly fucking you, and now I actually am.”

Rafa felt a spark of anger curling deep in his chest, but he tried to push it away. This wasn’t fair to Miguel. He knew that. He tried to imagine how he must have been feeling. Rafa hadn’t yet decided what would happen between him and Roger, but he already knew that now that Roger was back, there was no way Miguel would touch him again.

He understood why Miguel felt like he was a replacement. He would see it like that too if he were in his place. But Miguel wasn’t a replacement. He was just… he was his hope. 

“I don’t think he hates you,” he said slowly. “He believes he has no right to be angry after what he’d done.”

“Wow, for once he’s even right, I’m impressed.”

The anger in Rafa’s chest got a little stronger but he controlled it. He just always hated when people said bad things about Roger, even if he deserved it.

“Yeah, but it’s not right. I’m angry about what he’d done. I’m really very angry. And if we want to try to fix that mess, we should let our emotions out, not control them. That was the reason in the first place. We should be angry at each other and then cool off and move on, I just… It’s difficult.”

“Look, Rafael, I’m not going to discuss your relationship with him, okay? You’re being selfish. I’m here to tell you that I love you not to search for the solutions to save a relationship that’s keeping you from being mine!”

Rafa froze, his breath hitching. Miguel looked like he wanted to take what he had said back, but at the same time he seemed almost relieved at letting what’s been pressuring him out. The atmosphere suddenly got incredibly awkward and Rafa had no idea what to say. It was like being dragged into two different directions at the same time. It hurt.

“I… Miguel, I’m so sorry.”

“Of course you are.” Rafa’s chest hurt a little bit and he was thankful that the heart monitor was gone, because his heart was going at a full speed, wanting to jump right out of his chest. “Just tell me this, Rafa, and think well. If I had told you this before the accident, before Roger came home, your answer would have been different, wouldn’t it?”

Rafa bit his lip. He felt tears prickling at his eyes and he reached up to rub his eyes. He’d exposed enough of his weaknesses.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but probably not. Roger is…”

“He’s what?”

“He’s the love of my life, Miguel, I would have always waited for him, but you-“

“I was there, right? And I was easy. So I was a replacement after all.” The mix of emotions, surprise, hurt, anger, guilt and pain, was stronger now and Rafa found it hard to breathe. “I was a bad copy of him, is that it?”

“No, you two are nothing alike and-“

“And what now, Rafa? I spent weeks sleeping on his side of the bed and comforting you every time you remembered he left you. I cooked for you, because if I didn’t you would be nothing but a sack of bones now, I made sure to take you out because otherwise you would be pale as a vampire by now and the moment he suddenly decides that he’s made a mistake and he’s back, you’re gonna throw me out and take him back like what he’d done doesn’t even matter. Will you at least change the sheets before allowing him back in the bed?!”

As his voice got louder, tears slowly started to slip down Rafa’s cheeks. He wanted to ask Miguel to stop yelling at him, because he hated that, but Miguel was right about everything. He did everything for Rafa, he would be perfect for him. He was nice, kind, funny, understanding, his habits matched Rafa which meant there weren’t any misunderstandings on keeping the edge of the bath tube dry, the kitchen counter clean, the chairs pushed under the table, the pillows on the couch arranged in the right order.

And with Miguel he could have fun, he could be happy, but there was always a part of him thinking about Roger and something just didn’t feel right. He couldn’t help what his heart was feeling. And that would always be Roger, even if they couldn’t resolve their current problems. Roger would always be _the one_ for him even if he never saw him again.

“God, I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I actually thought that what we had could work.” Miguel’s harsh breathing calmed down and his voice was now gentler than before. “It’s just that I’ve been in love with you for years and you’re just so oblivious to everything and I’ve tried to keep my distance, but then you… Never mind, I’m gonna go.”

He stood up. He seemed nervous and restless, his hands shaking. Rafa wanted to tell him to stay, but he didn’t. Hurting other people always left a toll on him, even if it wasn’t his intention. But this, here, this was his fault. He was being selfish when he first kissed Miguel. He was being selfish when he asked him to stay the night. He was also being selfish when he allowed himself to slowly be undressed, when he held Miguel close to him and allowed himself to be taken just because he’d missed the human contact.

Selfishness always led to someone being hurt. In this case he managed to hurt Miguel, Roger and himself.


	28. I'm Screaming At the Top of My Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for commenting and reading, love you :)  
> Enjoy the chapter :)

“Hey, how I’m gonna pee?” Rafa asked after Roger got him comfortable on the bed.

“Sitting down, I guess.”

Rafa giggled. “No, I mean, how I get to bathroom?”

“You tell me, and I’ll help you, okay?”

“Okay,” Rafa agreed, smiling softly.

Rafa just got home from the hospital and getting him up the stairs was a huge project. Carlos and Roger needed about ten minutes to help him walk up to the first floor, without putting too much weight on Rafa’s legs. Carlos went back downstairs while Roger helped Rafa get changed.

Considering the glares Carlos kept sending him, Rafa’s ex-coach knew exactly what had happened and Roger was ready to face him when he went back downstairs to get Rafa a bottle of water and something to eat. Carlos was in the kitchen and he narrowed his eyes on him the moment Roger stepped through the door.

“God, I really wish I could choke you to death,” he immediately murmured. Roger wasn’t afraid of that threat. He knew that Carlos never liked him because he was afraid of Rafa getting hurt and in that way, he was right. And he was glad that Rafa had people who cared about him like that.

“I know,” he replied, “I deserve it.”

Carlos seemed surprised by his answer. He had expected Roger to get defensive and start yelling at him and he’d almost hoped for that to happen just so that he could show Rafa that there was no point in forgiving him.

“Yeah, you do, you’re an asshole and I’ve been telling Rafa that since you two got together, he should have listened to me.”

Roger sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. He tried to maintain eye contact with Carlos, but it was kind of hard, because he kept looking at him with so much contempt that it actually sent a chill down his spine.

“I made a mistake-“

“No, you’ve been making mistakes since forever.”

“I made a mistake,” Roger started again, his eyes begging Carlos to let him finish. “It’s completely my fault and I’m not blaming it on anyone else. I apologised to everyone I’ve hurt, including Mirka and my kids, but mostly Rafa. And now I’m apologising to you too. Not just for this situation, but also for our other fights. I know I’m often too stubborn to realise something is my fault. And in Switzerland I had a lot of time to think and I decided I’ll stop blaming my problems on someone else. I’ll do anything to solve them. I hope you’ll be able to accept my apology once.”

Carlos snorted. “Have you learned this speech by heart?”

Roger shrugged. “Not exactly, no. But I did think about what I was going to say. And I’m really happy that Rafa has someone who’s so ready to protect him like you are. I know exactly why you’re pissed at me, but believe me, I’m pissed at myself too.”

Carlos looked like he didn’t believe him, and Roger couldn’t blame him for that. He’d broken their trust and he would have to work hard to at least try to earn it back.

“Sure,” he said finally, his voice a little dubious. “And now what? Rafa’s just gonna pretend nothing happened and take you back?”

“I don’t know. We talked a little bit and Rafa said he doesn’t see a way out of this, but I’m here, right, and he hadn’t sent me away yet.”

“But you’ll go, if he asks you to?”

Roger wasn’t sure he would be actually able to live knowing that Rafa doesn’t want him, but he would leave and make sure Rafa has the best possible life. If Roger was the only barrier on Rafa’s way to happiness, he would remove himself immediately, without thinking twice, no matter how much it pained him and no matter how hard it was to promise something like that.

“Yes,” he said decisively and nodded. Carlos was pleased with the answer. Roger had a feeling Carlos strongly wanted Rafa to throw him out and he couldn’t blame him. It still hurt though.

“Well, I have to go pick the kids up from practice. Rafa’s physio is coming at five,” he told Roger as if he didn’t know. Roger ignored it though, and nodded, sending Carlos a small weary smile. “I’ll come over tomorrow to check on Rafa. See you.”

There was an obvious warning in his sentence which was impossible to ignore. But Roger didn’t need a warning. He would make sure Rafa spent the day as pain free and comfortable as possible, but they still needed to finish their talk. There was still a chance of Rafa asking him to leave, which would hurt even more now that he’d already spent two days at home.

Carlos left, and Roger walked him out, before quickly preparing something for Rafa to eat. The fridge was a lot emptier that how it used to be, and Roger could immediately tell that Rafa didn’t buy the stuff in the fridge. Rafa always made sure to buy various types of food just so that he could experiment with it and make it look healthy. The stuff that was in the fridge now was mostly food easy and quick to prepare. After minutes of thinking how to prepare something light out of the food in the fridge, he finally chose Greek yoghurt and blueberries, adding a spoon of honey and then waited until the chia seeds he had put in the water swelled enough to put them into the mix.

The meal was light and Rafa’s sensitive stomach would be thankful. He took a bottle of water and the medicine Rafa had got, before carrying all of it upstairs.

“Ohh, muchas gracias,” Rafa said immediately when he saw the food. Roger smiled. Rafa didn’t like the hospital food too much.

“You’re welcome,” Roger replied and placed the medicine on the nightstand. “Here are your pills. Don’t forget to take one in the evening, before you go to bed, okay?” He stood awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom, deeming it inappropriate to sit down on the bed.

“You are not here to remind me?” Rafa asked with mouth full of yoghurt and Roger wasn’t sure if he understood him right.

“I… Whatever you want, Rafa. I can go stay in a hotel, go back to Switzerland for a bit to give you time, I could-“

“Roger,” Rafa cut him off decisively. He had forgotten about the yoghurt in his lap. “You gave me more than enough time. Don’t dare leave me again.”

And still Roger wasn’t sure if he heard this right.

“You mean like… you want me to stay here? You can’t have possibly already forgiven me.”

Rafa sighed. He’d only now realised that this seemed like he forgave Roger everything and that he wanted to jump right back into their relationship, pretending like nothing even happened.

“Yes, I want you to stay. I didn’t forgive you yet, I didn’t have lot of time to think about it. But I don’t have to forgive you, first I need to forgive myself.”

“For what?” Roger asked quietly.

“For hurting Miguel, for how you say, leading him on, for cheating. Is not who I am, this person. I think Miguel is really angry and sad and I am worried.”

“Rafa, if he makes you happy, you should be with him, I don’t-“

“No, I want be with you. Just, maybe some time first. But not apart. I’m… I don’t like to ask for help, but this time I really gonna need it. And after… after my knees are well, we should go somewhere. Just you and me. To talk. Make plans. Find… find middle ways. To agree. Sound okay?”

Roger was very close to crying. Rafa was looking at him hopefully, his chocolate eyes sparkling and how could he ever say no to that. He kneeled besides the bed and found Rafa’s hand with his own. Rafa smiled slightly at that and put the bowl of yoghurt on the night stand, before taking Roger’s hand into both of his own.

“Don’t cry, Rogi,” he said and wiped the tear that slipped from the corner of Roger’s eye. “Just promise something. Never, no matter how hard it is to be honest, lie to me again. Please.”


	29. Give Me Reason But Don't Give Me Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't update for a few days, but I've been chilling at the sea side with my class mates :) It was very nice, but I ate way too much food and the sea was quite cold so I've been in the water for exactly ten seconds :D  
> Also, since this story is slowly coming to an end, if you have any prompts for the future stories, please slide into the comments. I have a lot of ideas myself, but they're filthy and besides, I want to write stuff that you would like to read :)  
> Oh, and if you have any good books for the summer vacation, please give me some recs, I have no idea what to read anymore.  
> All the love and enjoy reading. :) As always, the comments are more than welcome, thank you for reading.

“Hey, Rafa?”

“Sí?”

“Mirka called. She asked if she could come here. Said she needed to talk to us.”

Rafa walked out of the kitchen, his hands dripping wet because he was in the middle of washing lettuce. Roger was lying on the couch, going through paper stuff from the academy when Mirka suddenly called.

“Sí, for sure. Anything bad happened?”

“She didn’t say anything. I don’t think so, she probably wants to see you.”

“You told her about the surgery?”

“I did. Does it bother you?”

“No, of course not, I just didn’t think she cared.”

“She does, even more since she realised how stupid I am.” Rafa giggled, before walking back to the kitchen.

It’s been a week since Rafa got back on his feet and Roger hadn’t seen him so happy in a long time. There was no pressure on their relationship which made them more relaxed. It was similar to what they had before they got together, when they were just very good friends.

Today was the first day Rafa decided to go without crutches, after his physio told him it was okay, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“When is she coming?” he asked from the kitchen, yelling so Roger could hear him while he cooked. Roger spent the last few days cooking or ordering take out for Rafa, but today Rafa asked him if he could surprise him with lunch. Roger happily agreed and Rafa disappeared into the kitchen with a promise it wouldn’t be fish. Roger wasn’t allowed into the kitchen, so he lay down on the couch and started going through the papers, because Rafa mentioned they were having problems in the accountancy department and he had volunteered to help. But then the accident happened, and the papers were still there, and Roger gladly sorted through them.

“Saturday. She’ll tell me exactly when, after she books a flight.”

There were emails to write, letters to send, bills to pay and Roger got to work while trying to guess what Rafa was cooking by the smell coming from the kitchen. Rafa let out a noise of agreement and Roger smiled.

The last two weeks were a mix of everything. Roger wasn’t any close to forgiving himself and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to do it. Surprisingly, besides a few details, they didn’t talk about the past mistakes anymore. They focused on the future, both trying harder than ever before to adjust to each other’s needs.

They haven’t kissed yet, except a small peck Rafa had shyly placed on Roger’s cheek the first night back home. They had mutually agreed it would be better if Roger slept in the guest room, but Rafa didn’t count on having to pee in the middle of the night. He managed to sit up himself and was already set on trying to get into the bathroom by himself, but then he remembered the words of everyone around him. It was selfish to wake Roger up in the middle of the night, but Roger did promise him help after all and he knew that trying to stand up would be incredibly stupid and could only worsen the situation. With a heavy heart, already feeling guilty, he called for Roger. Roger came running into their bedroom in literally seconds, his hair wild, eyes frightened and thoroughly confused. Rafa couldn’t help the giggle that escaped at the sight.

“Sorry to wake you, Rogi,” he said, and Roger immediately seemed a little less tense after finding out Rafa was okay. “I really need to pee.”

Roger helped him into the bathroom and then back into his bed. When he turned around to leave, Rafa’s hand wrapped around his with a lightning speed.

“No…” he murmured. “Stay. Please.” All of Roger’s protests disappeared when Rafa looked at him with big hopeful eyes and he let himself fall into the bed, putting a respectable distance in between them. That’s when Rafa leaned in close and pressed his lips to his cheek. It was so quick that Roger barely had time to register what happened.

Roger slept in their bed ever since, just in case Rafa needed something during the night and even now when he was fine walking on his own they didn’t talk about it, they just kept it like it was before. They didn’t cuddle, and Roger missed it, but he wouldn’t push it. What he was getting was way more than what he deserved, and he was happy with it.

Rafa’s family came over a few times in the past two weeks, bringing them food and medicine and everything possible to make Rafa feel better. They seemed utterly convinced that the problems between them were gone and they were as warm and nice to Roger as always. Roger felt relief at that even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. It felt nice pretending everything was as perfect as it used to be.

Miguel came over about twice and each time Roger moved away. He accepted what had happened. It hurt but he didn’t hold it against Rafa. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t bare looking at the two together. He couldn’t help but notice some things, like how Rafa looked at him with adoration and guilt and something- something so close to love. That’s when Roger left the room.

He could hear them talking quietly and he was ready to jump in if a fight occurred, but nothing of sorts happened. Miguel collected his stuff that were lying all over the house and both times after he left, Roger found Rafa with teary eyes which he tried to hide from him. More than the jealously Roger felt the need to let Rafa be happy which included letting him be with Miguel. In those moments he tried to tell Rafa that, but the Spaniard’s answer was always the same. He didn’t want Miguel, he wanted Roger, but he would need time to get over their mistakes and to forgive himself. Each time Roger told him he would wait and that he understood.

Roger was going through the same paper for more than ten minutes and he got no work done. He got lost deep in his thoughts. One thing that he noticed about himself in the past months was that he was being subconsciously selfish very often. He always made sure that he was safe in every possible way, he always complained about his problems first before letting the other person speak, he never asked anyone how they were, he rarely bought anyone gifts if there wasn’t a special reason. Those were just little things, but Roger found out that they told a lot about him as a person. And he was set on changing that.

On the fourth night after Rafa got from the hospital, Roger woke up in the middle of the night and he had no idea why. Rafa was sleeping beside him, the moonlight beautifully illuminating his face. For the countless time Roger realised how incredibly lucky he was. He gently ran the tips of his fingers over Rafa’s face, because he didn’t dare kiss him. He wasn’t sure where they were standing yet, but at the contact his fingers made with Rafa’s skin the corners of Rafa’s lips turned up, like he was smiling at a dream only he would ever be able to see.

Roger smiled too and lay back down, but suddenly he found out that he was feeling strangely restless. He tried to ignore the feeling and go back to sleep, but the sleep just wouldn’t come. Roger gave up a few minutes later and carefully and quietly stood up and left the room.

He went down into the kitchen with the intention of getting himself a glass of water, but when he passed the cocktail cabinet it immediately dawned on him exactly why he was feeling the way he was. He tried to ignore it and drank a glass of water, but he just couldn’t quite bring himself to go back to sleep. He sat down at the kitchen table and lasted for exactly five minutes before he stood up and went to the cocktail cabinet. He unlocked it and looked at the various alcoholic drinks that Rafa had bought when Roger decided he really wanted to try out cocktail making. He just needed a few sips, there was no wish to get drunk and that’s why he didn’t take the bottle of vodka, but chose white rum instead, trying to convince himself that the alcohol percentage wasn’t that high and that that made it okay.

He made a sip right out of the bottle and swallowed, making his throat burn. He didn’t like the feeling. He put the bottle back on the table and sighed. When he started doing that he did it because he was miserable. After the accident he had promised himself that he wouldn’t do it anymore and for a few days he was coping just fine, but only because he had too much on his mind to actually think about alcohol. But now he was finally on the right way to get things better and he shouldn’t be wasting that on drinks. The decision was made in less than a second. The alcohol being here would make him drink it, he didn’t have enough power to resist it. One by one he emptied the bottles of alcohol in the cabinet down the sink, feeling both horrible and happy at the same time.

Rafa loved his bottles of wine that were down in the basement too much and Roger had no right to throw those away too, he tried not to think about it too much. If those would be a problem for him, they could find a solution. Together. Roger went back upstairs and crawled into the bed.

“Rafa,” he mumbled. It was half past two in the middle of the night and Roger felt guilty to wake him up from his much-needed sleep, but if he didn’t tell him this now, he perhaps never would. The Spaniard stirred, but he didn’t wake up.

“Rafa,” he mumbled again, louder this time. Rafa’s eyes finally blinked open and narrowed in confusion. He reached up and rubbed across his face.

“What? Are you okay, Rogi?” The confusion turned into worry and Roger realised that there were tears gathering in his eyes. He wondered if Rafa could see it even though the moon was the only source of light.

“I… I drank…” he admitted heavily. The relief was immediate though, it was like a huge weight dropped of his shoulders.

“What? Now?”

“I just… I took a sip. Then I realised I was being stupid and got rid of the bottles. I hope you’re not angry about that.”

Rafa sat up in the bed and with a huff shifted in a way he was facing Roger.

“You started in Switzerland?” he demanded. Roger nodded, not quite trusting his voice.

“I don’t want to be one of those people, Rafa, I really don’t.”

Rafa touched his hand. He calmed him immediately, his eyes holding no judgement and no anger.

“Then don’t be. You drink any more since come here?”

“Only today. I think I was too busy to think about it until now. I just woke up and I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Rafa murmured. Roger could tell he was tired and sleepy, partly also because of the strong painkillers he’d been receiving.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, I just wasn’t sure I would tell you if I waited until the morning.” Rafa’s hand tightened around his and it was his quiet reassurance.

“Thank you,” Rafa repeated, before he slowly rearranged himself back under the sheet with Roger’s help. “Tomorrow, we will throw away everything that can trigger you. And if you feel you need professional help, I can help that too.”

The thing is, Rafa was the nicest person ever, Roger thought after he finally gave up on that same sheet of paper and put it on the coffee table. He would continue in a few minutes, he just needed some time to clear his head. He had no idea why his mind was a racing mess. This two weeks he’d been busy processing everything that had happened, all the stuff he’d learned. He tried to put it so deep into his mind that he’d never forget and never repeat the same mistakes again.


	30. 'Cause I'll Just Make the Same Mistake Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I had ready, so I can't promise when the next one is coming, but hopefully soon, since the vacations are only one week away :)  
> Thank you for reading and commenting. I appreciate and love every single one of you :) <3

When the doorbell rang Roger went to open the door. He was mentally and physically ready to have Mirka yell at him, which was why he was completely surprised when he opened the door and got a handful of two teenage girls throwing themselves at him. Surprised but happy he wrapped his arms around them and hugged them close.

“You are so stupid,” Myla mumbled in his ear.

“But we’re glad you finally realised it,” Charlene added. Roger chuckled and squeezed them closer before letting them go. He didn’t know they were going to come, because if he did he would definitely prepare Rafa for that. But how could he know? They hadn’t come here since Rafa and Roger told them they were getting married and Roger didn’t know what caused them to change their mind about it.

He hugged the boys next who seemed both relieved and uncomfortable at the same time. He didn’t hug Mirka because she way glaring at him but sent her a wary smile. He invited them inside.  

“Please, make yourselves at home, I’ll just go get Rafa.” He quickly ran upstairs after he made sure that they took their shoes off, because Rafa would get a stroke if he had to vacuum the living room again. Roger had insisted that there was no need to vacuum, then he insisted that he would vacuum but Rafa decisively turned him down both times and then proceeded to vacuum the living room himself even though he complained about it.

“Rafa,” he panted after he finally reached their bedroom.

“Sí?” Rafa calmly spoke. He was rummaging through the nightstand drawer, Roger couldn’t tell for what.

“My kids, they’re here, I didn’t know… I…” he tried to breathe through his words, while carefully watching Rafa’s expression change. It went from confused to wary and then to scared. Roger understood him, but he already decided that today Rafa wouldn’t be hurt again. He knew his kids well enough to know that they wouldn’t hurt Rafa on purpose, especially not in his own house. “I think they want to talk to you,” he added after he could finally breathe normally.

Rafa seemed completely frightened, but he nodded bravely and straightened up. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt and adjusted his shorts. Roger could immediately tell that he was nervous.

“No problem,” Rafa said and Roger knew that his voice sounded braver that how he was actually feeling.

“Don’t worry, Raf. I just think that…”

“It’s okay,” Rafa jumped in, his voice a little harsher this time and Roger closed his mouth. He didn’t want this to stress Rafa out, but he knew that when Rafa set his goal on something, there wasn’t a thing that could stop him. If he decided he would talk to Roger’s kids, Roger couldn’t do anything about it.

Rafa went down the stairs, still walking carefully and slowly, and Roger realised that Rafa was afraid. Both of falling again and of seeing Roger’s kids for the first time in very long. Roger followed him to protect him from both.

“Hola!” Roger’s whole family greeted in one voice and from the corner of his eyes Roger saw Rafa smile.

“Hello,” he replied. Roger’s children were sitting on the couch, while Mirka was nowhere to be seen. “You are a little late here, but on a nice day the sea is still very warm.” Roger smiled.

Myla and Charlene suddenly seemed very sheepish and they both blushed, looking at each other. Charlene started pulling something out of her bag. From the doorway where Roger was standing he couldn’t exactly tell what it was, but it looked like a book of some sorts, or perhaps a photo album.

“We’re not here to swim, Rafa,” Myla replied after seconds of almost uncomfortable silence. “Um, could you come here, please?” Rafa seemed surprised but he went to the couch where Myla and Charlene scooted apart to make enough space for Rafa to sit in between them. Roger leaned against the frame of the door, more than interested to see what was going to happen.

“Look. Um, well, this is coming from all of us four, but mostly from Myla and me. What we said to you… you know, on that day, was not right. We’re sorry we took so long to apologise, but…”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologise,” Rafa immediately started. Roger almost glared at him. Of course, they had to. “If Mirka wants, I can-“

“Rafa, our mum didn’t make us do that, neither did dad. Well, maybe, passively, but he didn’t tell us to.”

“Do you at least want something to drink?” Rafa asked, already preparing to stand up. Roger wondered why he was running away from this.

“No, wait,” Myla said and grabbed his wrist. Rafa stilled, but he looked more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. “I have personally felt guilty ever since I said that. I shouldn’t have, Rafa, but we were all angry and sad and afraid and you were the easiest to blame.” Roger winced. Well, that was a nice way of putting it. “And after that, we just stayed stubborn and we wanted to apologise and move past that, but every time…”

“We were ashamed,” Leo filled in, his eyes clearly showing that exactly, because he just wouldn’t look up from the floor. Rafa turned to him. The expression of his face was a mix of surprise, sadness, guilt and small rays of happiness.

“Um,” Charlene continued. “We just wanted to tell you that we’re sorry for yelling at you and saying all those horrible things and then acting so cold and distant and not apologising. We’re still trying to cope with our family being apart.” She glanced at Roger and his heart broke a little at the sadness in his daughter’s eyes. “But we don’t blame you for it. Not anymore, not after we had the chance to think about it.”

Rafa was already on the verge of tears, and if Roger wasn’t wrong so were his girls. “And we wanted to tell you that we missed the moments we spent together before and sorry we needed so long to gather the courage to apologise. But after dad did I think we owe this to you and to him too.” Charlene and Myla glanced to Roger at the same time and he gave them a small thankful smile which they returned.

“I… Thank you,” Rafa said, his voice thick with tears and Roger watched as Myla very cautiously hugged him. Roger was afraid what it would do to her if Rafa rejected her, but of course he never would. He hugged her with one hand and Charlene with the other and Roger smiled. The boys were excluded from the hug, but they clearly didn’t complain about it, they were in the phase where they didn’t like hugs too much.

“Oh, and we made you that.” When Charlene pressed the book into Rafa’s hands and Rafa opened it, Roger realised it was in fact a photo album. Rafa and his kids went through it and by the end of it they were all crying and Roger, still standing at the doorway was very close too.

“We would still like to come to the academy, if you can ever forgive us.”

Rafa laughed breathlessly and reached for a tissue on the coffee table. He passed the box around. “Of course, no problem.”

A warm body pressed against Roger’s and he jumped, but it was just Mirka, who hugged him from behind and put her chin on his shoulder. Roger relaxed. He expected anything but a hug from her.

“You’re all a bunch of idiots,” she said, and Roger laughed. She was, as usually, right.

Meanwhile, Rafa couldn’t help but wonder how Roger’s kids would react if they knew he had been cheating on Roger.


	31. Saw the World Turning In My Sheets

Rafa wouldn’t tell Roger where they were going, so he didn’t find out until the last minute, when Rafa finally had to give him his ticket. They were just about to get on the plane.

“Thailand?” Roger asked, his eyes wide. Rafa looked at him and gave him a brief smile, before he focused on the queue he was standing in. 

“That’s where we…” 

“Sí, Roger, is to repeat the happy memories.” 

Roger remembered their honeymoon well. It was one of the best things that have ever happened to him. They spent two weeks in a small cottage right on the beach, which was absolutely perfect and so intimate that they had never felt closer. Ever since then Roger has wanted to go back there, but there just wasn’t enough time.

Rafa went through with his promise about going somewhere after his knees were okay. He told Roger he wanted to plan it and while Roger wasn’t sure if Rafa could do that without missing out something important, he agreed immediately after Rafa promised that his mum would help him. He expected something closer, maybe Alicante which Rafa loved so much, or maybe even Menorca, because as surprising as it was, Roger had never been there before. But Thailand was way more than he had expected. 

They flew to Münich, where they boarded the plane for Thailand. They got comfortable in their business class seats and Rafa smiled secretly. 

“Let me guess, you reserved that same cottage, didn’t you?” Rafa’s smile widened into a grin. 

“I may have.” 

“Oh, my God, I love you.” It’s been quite long since they had said that to each other without apologising for their mistakes at the same time. The moment Roger said it, he was almost a bit sorry for it. He didn’t know how Rafa would react. Their relationship was getting better each day, but they still had not determined what exactly they were. Roger had a feeling that wasn’t the most important thing. 

“Sí,” Rafa replied, flashing his dimples. “I love you too.”

*

“Is still just as pretty,” Rafa said, throwing himself on the bed. Roger laughed and looked around himself. The cottage was on the beach, just meters away from the sea and since the walls were made out of wood you could clearly hear the sounds of waves crashing against the shore if you listened hard enough. 

“It is,” Roger agreed. The bedroom was small, barely big enough for a bed with nightstands and two modern closets. It couldn’t be more beautiful. “Hey, you wanna go swimming?” Rafa’s smile became bright enough to light the whole world up and he nodded, already climbing off the bed. 

“Sí. Let’s get swimming trunks!” 

Rafa opened his suitcase and started rummaging through it. 

“I don’t have any,” Roger replied. 

“You not have swimming trunks?” 

Roger had to laugh at the horrified expression on Rafa’s face. 

“No,” he replied, still laughing. “You didn’t tell me where we are going, and I thought about taking them, but then there was no space left and I decided not to take them.”

“Swimming trunks are small!” Rafa exclaimed. “How you have no space? For sure you take many suits, no?” 

“I did take a suit, yes,” Roger admitted sheepishly. He couldn’t help himself, he loved his suits. Rafa seemed completely offended, barely able to comprehend what was happening, before he turned back to his suitcase. 

“You are horrible, Roger, absolutely horrible.” 

Roger sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him. A few seconds later, after Rafa already took everything from the suitcase, the clothes now lying scattered all around him, he sat back on his haunches and frowned. 

“I don’t have swimming trunks either,” he said. He was thoroughly confused, and Roger burst out laughing. “Is not funny. I think… Oh, I know where I put them. In the bag with towels. Which I forget,” he said sadly. 

Rafa seemed so put down by the situation that Roger had to intervene. “Come on, let’s just go skinny dipping.”

Rafa’s eyes widened and he looked at Roger. “Now? But is still light, and people are looking.” 

“We have a private beach, Rafa, no one is around. Besides, everyone had already seen your ass a few times, I think it’s about time you provide your fans with new material.” Rafa blushed and he looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“I was miles away on the boat!” he exclaimed.

“Clearly not miles away. And what’s the point of even using a towel if you don’t use it helpfully?” 

“Is to protect the front,” Rafa replied, his eyebrows wiggling. Roger snorted. 

“Sure. You in?”

“Sí. I in,” Rafa replied after a moment of thinking and Roger grinned. 

“Come on.” Roger offered him his hand and pulled him up from the ground when Rafa took it. It was about five in the afternoon in Thailand and it was still hellishly hot outside, it’s why Roger wanted to get into the water as quick as possible. 

The palm trees were swaying in the gentle wind and Rafa almost ran to the sea. He looked around himself and after finding out there indeed wasn’t anybody around he took his clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the soft sand.

“This is only for today,” he said. “Tomorrow, we gonna go shopping.” 

Roger agreed with the idea completely, suddenly not as confident about skinny dipping as before. Rafa seemed to have no other thoughts, he was already in the water, the surface reaching to his knees and Roger’s eyes were just somehow drawn to Rafa’s backside. He bit his lip.

Rafa turned around and gave him a wide smile. “You coming, Roger?” 

Roger was definitely coming. He shook his head to get rid of the inappropriate thoughts and also of the self-consciousness that had gripped him. Rafa smiled at him reassuringly and Roger reminded himself that there was nothing to be ashamed of. He might have lost some weight and muscle mass in the last few weeks, but Rafa had known him for years, why would he judge him for something like that. 

He removed his shirt, followed by his shorts and then kicked his flip-flops off. The water was pleasantly warm when he walked into it and soon enough he reached Rafa who was standing still and waiting for him. Rafa offered him his hand and Roger took it. Together they walked deeper into the clean water, watching little fish swim by, tickling their feet. 

“This is so nice,” Rafa moaned and Roger tried very hard not to look at him, but he couldn’t resist. When Rafa caught him watching and their eyes met briefly, Roger blushed and looked away. These moments with Rafa were like the ones at the beginning of their relationship and until now, Roger didn’t know how much he’d missed them. 

Rafa laughed, his laughter light and happy. “Is okay, Rog, you can look.” 

Roger did look and then he couldn’t stop staring and couldn’t stop himself from reaching over to Rafa, almost tentatively touching his shoulder. His palm slid down Rafa’s strong biceps, over his elbow, his forearm and all the way to his hand. They were now standing facing each other, both of their hands joined, eyes locked in an intense eye contact. 

Suddenly Rafa chuckled. His smile and eyes were so soft, he seemed relaxed and happy and Roger was thankful to see him like that again. 

“You don’t think is strange?” 

“What?” 

“This… We are standing here and looking like long-lost lovers and we are naked. For sure, would look strange if somebody saw.” 

Roger looked back to the shore but there still wasn’t anybody there. 

“Maybe we are long-lost lovers,” he replied after a moment of peaceful silence. 

“No,” Rafa said, shaking his head. His grip on Roger’s hands tightened and his smile widened. “Not lost. Just… stray, no?” He seemed so proud of having found that word that Roger didn’t have the heart to tell him those two words were almost the same. He pulled Rafa closer and wrapped his arms around him, breathing in the smell he had missed so much.

“I’m so happy we found each other again.”


	32. EPILOGUE

When Roger woke up the bed was empty, but the sound of the door closing was still echoing in the air. He turned around and sighed softly. It was half past six and he had no idea why he was already awake. He stood up slowly, his mind still trying to process the time, the date and everything around him. He went downstairs and patted Tiger, who was sleeping on the kitchen counter, before turning on the coffee machine. 

About ten minutes passed before he heard sounds coming from upstairs. It’s not like he had forgotten, but it was still hard to take in that his kids were here. Myla and Charlene came running down the stairs like a hurricane just seconds later. Rafa had taken the boys fishing with Miguel. 

“Good morning,” they said in unison, a thing they had developed over time and which Rafa found incredibly fascinating. Roger often found him setting up a conversation in a way that the twins could reply at the same time and he always got excited like a small kid when the twins said the same thing at the same time. 

“Morning,” he replied in Swiss German. Around Rafa they always spoke English for his benefit and Roger found himself missing his native tongue. But still, he liked it even better that his children were picking up a bit of Spanish at the academy where they were training. He knew they had a chance of learning it way better than he had, because they were younger and especially the girls were incredibly talented when it came to languages. 

“Mom says hello, we just talked,” Myla said and opened the fridge. She inspected it for a few seconds and then closed it with a sigh. “There’s nothing to eat,” she sighed, making Roger roll his eyes.

“There’s Nutella, jam, eggs, cereals, butter, plenty of fresh fruit, toast-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m kinda sorry I didn’t go with Rafa, I mean I’m up early anyways and I have no idea why.” She opened the fridge again and took out an egg. Charlene raised her eyebrows at her from where she was already sitting at the table, munching away at cereals. 

“You hate fishing,” she said and stuffed another spoon into her mouth.

Myla nodded sadly. “Yeah… Soooooo boring.” 

Roger chuckled and took a sip of his coffee.

“What are we doing today?” he asked. It was Saturday, which meant no school. They usually spent their weekends doing something fun, but they were slowly running out of ideas.

Roger’s children had enrolled at the academy in the fall a year ago, after they and Rafa managed to clear things up. Surprisingly the kids had no problem leaving Switzerland, besides a few panicked phone calls and tears right after arriving to Mallorca. But they got used to it quickly. They all went to Switzerland during the winter vacation where they tried to teach Rafa how to ski, and Mirka visited often. It was now June, more than a year since Roger almost ruined his life. He hadn’t lied ever since. 

“We could go to the beach and surprise Rafa,” Myla suggested.

“He would definitely be surprised to see you up that early,” Roger agreed with a chuckle. Myla rolled her eyes in a frighteningly similar way to Mirka. 

“We could go to the beach,” Myla repeated. “Go swimming and then we could have lunch somewhere in Porto Cristo. They aren’t going to catch any fish anyways.” 

Roger laughed loudly. He should tell her not to be that mean instead of encouraging it, but she was right. Rafa kept blaming it on the lack of fish. 

Roger checked his phone. They had this rule. Nobody could have their phone in their rooms during the night so there was usually a row of phones charging on the kitchen counter. Only Rafa’s was missing and he was impressed that the Spaniard managed to convince the boys to leave theirs at home. Rafa having his phone on him when he was outside was another one of their unwritten rules.   


**Morning, Rogelio. I slept too long, and I couldn’t get the food, we’ll get it on our way back. Already fed Tiger. Te** **quiero** **.**

There was a heart and a wedding band emoji. Roger chuckled. 

**No worries. I hope you actually catch something this time, we’re starving. Te** **quiero** **tambien** **.**

He added a wedding band of his own and hearts in every possible colour.

“You’re disgusting,” Charlene said, and Roger realised he’d been stupidly smiling at the screen of his phone. “Absolutely sickening.”

“Oh, shush,” Myla replied. She was finally done cooking her egg and was now climbing on the counter to get the salt from the highest shelf. “They’re in love, can’t you see?”

“Myla, how many times have I told you not to climb on the counter, I’m gonna-“

*

Even after all this years it was still funny how Rafa jumped when Roger surprised him. This time he almost let go of his fishing rod.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed but would relax once he saw it was only Roger. He let out a sigh of relief and slapped Roger’s arm lightly. “Don’t scare me like that.” 

With happiness blossoming in his chest Roger watched as the girls hugged Rafa and sat down on the pier next to him. 

Roger explained their plan and with a slight frown Rafa agreed. He’d only caught one small fish which was sadly swimming in the bucket of water. 

“Is bony anyways,” Rafa said. He apologised to the fish and threw it back into the water. They watched it swim away. “No luck today.”

*

“Shhh,” Roger murmured and affectionately pressed his lips to Rafa’s neck. Rafa couldn’t stop moaning though and Roger pressed his palm against Rafa’s mouth. He felt Rafa’s tongue lick at his skin and he chuckled as it tickled him. His hips lost their rhythm and then they started laughing. 

“God, you’re just trying to ruin the mood, aren’t you?” 

Rafa grinned at him, shaking his head. “No, no, I just remembered something funny.” 

“And what would that be?” 

Roger stopped moving, their bodies still pressed together, skin sticking to skin with sweat. 

“When Charlene heard us, no? And Myla was just like, well, at least he can satisfy him,” he managed to tell this, before bursting out laughing. Roger sighed and rested his forehand against Rafa’s. 

“I have no idea why you find this funny, I swear to God, sometimes you are so weird.” Rafa couldn’t stop giggling and Roger shook his head. “They’re not even old enough to know about sex, hey, you aren’t having any talks about this with them, right?” 

Rafa’s laughter slowly died and he brought his hand up to touch Roger’s face, fingers then tangling in his hair, he brought his head down and pecked Roger’s lips. 

“I can’t talk about your kids while your dick is in me. That _is_ weird.”

“You’re the one who started.” 

Rafa frowned like he didn’t remember that, before he shook his head, his curls bouncing around. Rafa literally glowed. He’d been so happy for the past nine months, Roger hoped that would never be taken away from them. 

“Sorry,” Rafa then murmured. His hand slipped to his neck, nails digging into the skin there. He tightened the grip with his thighs on either side of Roger’s waist and raised his hips. He moaned again, reminding him of why Roger had put a hand over his mouth in the first place. 

“You’re impossible,” Roger said with a wide smile that said just the opposite and covered Rafa’s lips with his own, fucking Rafa until there was nothing left on his mind but Roger. 

*

“Hey, Roger, a set?” 

Roger looked at Rafa, who was sitting on the other bench on the other side of the court. Myla and Charlene had just finished the practice that Rafa and Roger had promised they would come watch and Rafa had his own training session with the kids in an hour. They could take the girls home but there was hardly enough time for Rafa to return on time. 

It was way better to spend this time warming up and doing the one thing he loved the most. Playing tennis. Roger agreed with a grin. Rafa ran off to get the rackets, while Roger changed his shoes. 

An hour wasn’t enough. They both found themselves missing the long best-of-five matches. There was nothing that tired you out more than that, but at the same time it provided pleasure that nothing else could. Roger started thinking about not turning down the next offer for playing in an exhibition event. It wouldn’t be the same and perhaps it would bring him pain to be so close yet so far to competitive tennis, but he could try. 

Ever since Rafa’s knees got better he started working out more, he played more tennis and he was still incredibly good. Impossible to beat. Especially on clay. Roger wanted to tell him that it wasn’t fair, but at the same time he loved to watch Rafa in his element. He loved how he still picked his butt, wiped at his nose, tucked his hair behind his ears. He loved how his face was still a wall of concentration, nothing beneath showing. He was still a ruthless gladiator on the court. Rafa completely destroyed him, but Roger took it every single time to see that beast he fell in love with. 

They met at the net, both of them breathless, but happy. Thrumming with energy and Roger couldn’t wait to have Rafa all to himself in the showers. As usually, a crowd had gathered around them, but Roger didn’t mind. He stepped over the net and hugged Rafa close. They both had sweat dripping off them, but Roger still buried his nose into Rafa’s neck. 

“Thank you. I love you.” He was thanking him for everything Rafa had ever done from him. With the corner of his eyes he saw Myla and Charlene, smiles on their faces.

“What got into you? Come on, shower.” 

Roger laughed, patting Rafa’s tummy. Rafa smiled brightly and took Roger’s hand. 

Hand in hand, rackets in their free hands they walked off the court, the noise of the cheering crowd following them. Everything was just as it should be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guyssssssssss  
> omg i can't believe it's over  
> fun fact, that was the first longer fic that i've managed to finish in my entire life i'm so proud of myself :))  
> i actually didn't think it'd be over that soon, but the last chapter just kinda seemed, you know, good   
> for everyone hoping that Rafa and Roger would break up: this is a story of forgivness, of learning from the past mistakes, of love... that was my plan all along and i never experienced it in a way that i'd think, oh, i want them to break up  
> i think their love is pure and unconditional and true, they were sooooo fucking stupid at times, i swear they got on my nerves, but they learned to accept, to forgive and to move on :)  
> i enjoyed writing this story more than you can imagine and i can't wait to start a new longer one as soon as i get a good idea  
> i would like to thank everyone who commented, left kudos and read this fic, i love you and i hope you'll stay with me in the future, thank you so much  
> all the love and may the luck be with you, Žana :)


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